Whoever They Think Is Up Here

[Verse]

Sold-out room, and my hands are doing the thing they do,

that small flat tremble I hide by gripping the mic through

the first eight bars until the body finally remembers the drill.

Two thousand people singing words I wrote when I was still

uneasy with every single part of who I was.

And that's the joke I carry: they all learned the confident one.

I still live at the old address. I still know the code.