Lyrics

No ghosts.
No gravy.
Just a chair—
and everything it changed.

⸻

[INTRO – CALEB, sitting on the floor, holding a blank notepad]
CALEB:
There’s a chair that don’t pull back.
Don’t scrape. Don’t creak.
Just waits.
Like it remembers something
it wishes it could forget.

⸻

[VERSE 1 – CHRISTINA, hair tied down, voice quiet, unfloatin’ for once]
CHRISTINA:
I used to dance above that chair.
Spin and spit fire into air.
Will watched once—
then the storm sat down.
Now that chair
don’t make a sound.

I sang to it last night.
It didn’t twitch.
I kissed it twice.
Not even a glitch.
It’s empty now.
But it still hums.
Like it holds all the things
we never become.

⸻

[VERSE 2 – FRANK, polishing a fish that doesn’t blink]
FRANK:
I served a flounder to that chair once.
It blinked, “Thank you,” then spoke in grunts.
Now the fryer don’t sing.
The oil stays flat.
And the fish won’t speak
since Will ain’t sat.

That chair’s got weight
without a soul.
Like it swallowed a question
and won’t let go.
I tried to serve it tea today.
The tea said, “No.”
Then turned away.

⸻

[VERSE 3 – MAC, hat in hand, not chewing, not blinking]
MAC:
I sat there once,
before Will came.
Didn’t fit right.
Weren’t the same.

After him,
that chair got presence.
Like sittin’ in it
would wake a sentence.

I look at it now—
and I don’t sit.
Ain’t fear. Ain’t grief.
It’s… don’t mess with it.

That chair’s a sermon.
No preacher. No hymn.
Just a plate that cooled
after feedin’ him.

⸻

[HOOK – ALL CHARACTERS, quietly, holding space with each word]
🎵 The empty chair where Will once sat—
holds the loop, the echo, the fact.
No cushion creaks. No shadow leans.
But everyone feels what that silence means.

Frank don’t serve it.
Mac won’t near.
Christina stares
but won’t go near.
And Caleb writes,
but nothing lands.
It’s just that chair…
with folded hands. 🎵

⸻

[OUTRO – MS. MAE, standing behind the chair, eyes closed, both hands resting on the back]
MS. MAE:
“I never cleared the place setting.
Still hot.
Still full.
Still his.”