[Verse 1]
Friday at the Anchor, quarter past eleven,
three drinks on the tab, feel like borrowed heaven,
clock above the bar keeps lying, says the night's still young,
but the bill shows up Sunday after all the songs are sung.
Used to be one headache waiting by the door,
now it's got a weekend's rent and it's asking for more.
Saturday's a ghost town, curtains drawn at noon,
blinds doing double duty, blocking out the moon.
Three drinks, same three drinks I've poured since I was twenty-five,
cost more now in hours than in dollars, side by side.
[Chorus]
Two days gone for three glasses poured,
that's the quiet math nobody warned me for,
two days gone, and the clock don't care,
it just keeps on walking while I'm stuck in the chair.
[Verse 2]
So I set a little promise on the glass beside the sink,
every hour on the hour, before I take a drink,
the water-through-the-day thing taps me like an old friend,
says glass of water now, keeps saying it till the end.
And before I ever turn the key or step off the curb,
I say the street out loud, the long way, no detour,
the route goes out loud and the drive gets written down,
so Monday I remember how I crossed the town.
It isn't a cure, just a smaller kind of care,
one glass, one road, one less thing to repair.
[Bridge]
Still the Saturday's quiet, still the light's too loud,
still some mornings I'm a stranger in my own house,
nothing wipes out what the two days take,
I just make the math a little easier to shake.
[Chorus]
Two days gone for three glasses poured,
that's the quiet math nobody warned me for,
two days gone, and the clock don't care,
it just keeps on walking while I'm stuck in the chair.
[Verse 3]
My brother called on Sunday, said I sound different now,
said there's less gravel in my voice, less static in the vow,
I told him it's not magic, it's just a change of pace,
same three drinks still waiting, same old familiar face,
but now I count the water like I used to count the pours,
and I write the drive down steady, like a note nailed to the door,
the kids don't ask why Daddy's quiet on a Saturday,
'cause quiet's not the hangover, it's just an easy day.
I'm not chasing sober, not chasing anything grand,
just trying to meet Monday with a steadier hand,
just trying to carry less than what I used to carry,
just trying to be someone Sunday doesn't have to bury.
[Chorus]
Two days gone for three glasses poured,
that's the quiet math nobody warned me for,
two days gone, and the clock don't care,
it just keeps on walking while I'm stuck in the chair.
[Outro]
Two days gone, but I'm still the one who stays,
counting hours into something softer than before,
one less glass, one less mile unknown,
I'm learning how to leave less of myself at the door,
learning how to leave less of myself at the door.