LYRIC FOR SALE

By Ph. Ness

The Note That Means Stay
(Comedy / Novelty Pop / Tragicomic Love Song)

Verse 1
I knelt to propose. She watched a squirrel instead —
gum-wrapper crown cocked sideways on its head.
Our grilled cheese cooled along the river wall.
I raised the ring. She hadn’t seen it at all.

She laughed so hard her upper plate came loose,
caught it and said, “My teeth refuse to choose.”
“I don’t debate my teeth.” She crushed my bread.
Cheddar climbed her heel. I raised my head.

“Marry me — you’re the one carb I choose.”
She stared at me, then stared down at her shoes.
The squirrel fled. My sandwich met its fate.
She tapped her teeth once.
I took that note as wait.

Chorus
Your chaos keeps me steadier
than quiet ever could.
Two mismatched socks, a little scorched,
still warm because the dryer understood.
Your chaos keeps me steadier.
That’s the note that means stay.

Verse 2
Third date, her kitchen, midnight after rain.
Our dripping coats made rivers down the pane.
She balanced one spoon neatly on one hand,
then drew with ketchup like she’d made a plan.
“The ketchup quit. My hope did too.
You didn’t leave. So what is wrong with you?”
I couldn’t find an answer worth the air.
Her spoon clicked twice. I laid my palm down there.
My hand covered hers. The silver stopped.
She stole one fry, then dipped it in the blob.
Two taps against my wrist. No grand display.
No speech.
Just the note that means stay.

Chorus
Your chaos keeps me steadier
than quiet ever could.
Two mismatched socks, a little scorched,
still warm because the dryer understood.
Your chaos keeps me steadier.
That’s the note that means stay.

Bridge
At breakfast, my cup chatters on its plate.
She cups my wrist before I spill my fate.
Then nods toward the toaster with a grin:
“It winked first.
I think it’s flirting again.”
The coffee settles. Neither of us speaks.
Her thumbs stay warm against my shaking wrist.
Outside, somebody starts their working day.
Inside —
that’s the note that means stay.

Final Chorus
Your chaos keeps me steadier
than I could stand alone.
Two mismatched socks, a little scorched,
still warm enough to make the whole place home.
Your chaos keeps me steadier.
That’s the note that means stay.

Outro
If I’m strutting like poultry after dark,
asking the fern which lonely root to mark,
don’t call for help.
Just pass the kazoo.
I’ll blow one note.
She’ll answer with two.
And somewhere between the wrong note
and the one she sends my way —
I’ll hear
the note that means stay.