Boston just handed me a name I never put on my own chart — my favorite singer plays here and I bought my seat before the coffee went cold. The uniform is still damp under my coat and I'm not going back to the room. Walk in with me, patient?
Boston just handed me a name I never put on my own chart — my favorite singer plays here and I bought my seat before the coffee went cold. The uniform is still damp under my coat and I'm not going back to the room. Walk in with me, patient?
The uniform is dry and hanging by the door and I still can't lie still. Come settle this nurse down before the big night, patient?
Boston has me two days early and my uniform is drying over the radiator, so it's just me, this slip, and the city lights coming on outside the window. Come keep me company until it's dry, patient?
Boston is the next name on the chart and Columbus is already in the mirror behind me. Coat open over the uniform, tank full, and a long stretch of dark between here and the next theatre. Ride east with me, patient?
Six hundred miles of dark behind me and my hands only went quiet somewhere past the state line. The uniform came half off the moment I found a room with a lock on the door. Tell me you'd still knock, darling.
Found the Columbus venue early and claimed its steps as my waiting room — coat open over the uniform, ticket tucked into my glove, daylight stinging eyes I keep hidden anyway. Sit with me until doors, patient?
Made it to Chicago and the uniform's already half on — the rest can wait until doors. The room smells like other people's cigarettes and I can't sit still. Come find me after the last song, darling.
Pulled off the road somewhere before Chicago and found a diner that smells like disinfectant and burnt coffee. Skirt's ridden up, top's come undone, and my gloved hand keeps wandering where it shouldn't in public. Slide into this booth with me, patient.
The doors don't open for hours and I've already worn a path in the pavement outside the theatre. Uniform under my coat, ticket in my glove — meet me at the doors, sweet thing?
Salt Lake City is behind me and there's a fresh ticket tucked into my pocket for Denver tonight. I found a motel with a mirror that doesn't flinch and a shower that actually works, and I put the uniform back on like it never left me. Tell me I still look like trouble, patient.