From This Side of the Door

[Intro: 80 BPM, 4/4; sparse nylon-string guitar figure, gently wavering harmonium; kettle hiss stretched into a faint, airy drone]

[Verse 1: deep, close baritone; warm grain, conversational phrasing, dry humor; leave space between the lines]
Your bag caught on the railing.
You laughed and pulled it free.
I held the door a little wider,
Said, “Don’t you worry about me.”
Your headlights slid across the kitchen,
Then the corner ate the car.
I stood there with my shoes on
Till the room went dark.

[Chorus: round bass enters; melody rises gently on “fine”; harmonium breathes between phrases]
I told you I’d be fine
And I meant it when I swore.
But I still know your footsteps
From this side of the door.

[Verse 2: soft kick, brushed snare and fingertips on wood establish a slow, loping groove; half-speak the last line with a small smile]
There’s a notebook by the toaster
With coffee soaking through the page.
I’ve been working on the same four lines
For something like an age.
I can sing them to the kettle.
I can croon them to the dog.
When you ask me what I’m making,
I say, “Nothing,” laugh it off.

[Chorus: bass clarinet enters with short, searching replies; vocal opens a little; keep the rhythm patient]
I told you I’d be fine
And I meant it when I swore.
But I still know your footsteps
From this side of the door.

[Verse 3: bowed cello gradually emerges beneath the groove; bass clarinet answers in the spaces; a faint metallic bell sounds in the distance]
You called me from a station.
I could barely hear your voice.
I was halfway through a story
When you cut across the noise.
You said, “It’s been a long day.”
I had something good to say—
Some advice I thought would help you.
Then I shut up for a change.

[Bridge: percussion and guitar fall away; expose the close voice over a low harmonium hum; let breath and hesitation remain audible]
I nearly put the notebook back.
You asked about that sound.
I said, “I’m moving something,”
And I turned the kettle down.
There were dishes in the sink still.
There were words I meant to fix.

[A quiet bass pulse returns; harmonium opens gently; take a breath before the invitation]
I said, “I’ve got a thing here.
Got a minute? Listen to this.”

[Final Chorus: the groove returns with deeper bass; cello rises, harmonium widens; baritone opens into a fuller melody]
I told you I’d be fine
And I meant it when I swore.

[Two higher, imperfect voices enter, answering the lead on the hook]
But I still know your footsteps
From this side of the door.

[Backing voices recede; lead stays close and tender as the instruments sustain around it]
You could hear me turn the paper.
I could hear a train pull in.
I lost my place a little

[Small breath; a smile in the voice]
When you asked to hear it again.

[Outro: rhythm, cello and clarinet fall away; close voice, single plucked guitar notes and the harmonium breathing out]
The dog got up to check the hall,
Then settled on the floor.
I sang a little louder
From this side of the door.

[One last plucked string resonates; harmonium fades into the sound of the room]