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Words from the artist’s archive
Little Cages lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Intro
Neon buzzing like a bad tooth over bottles gone brown, Sports on mute, rain in the gutter, nobody proud.
Verse 1
Third quarter on the TV, captions crawling with no sound, Old bleach, beer foam, fryer smoke pressing the ceiling down. Marlene wiped the counter with a rag black at the seam, Then Denny hit the doorway loud, shoebox held against his jeans. Said, “I gave my bird beer and weed,” like cruelty was a bit, Lid cracked open, yellow wing low, one foot dragging in it.
Pre-chorus
One green feather on the sticky bar, floating in the foam, Whole room looking anywhere except the thing called wrong. Funny how the ugliest truth gets served inside a joke, Funny how we laugh first, then smell the smoke.
Chorus
We all keep little cages and call them Friday night. Dress the hurt up like a punchline underneath the neon light. That bird looked like the room did, just weaker in the glow, And nobody liked the mirror when it showed.
Verse 2
Marlene’s cracked phone hovered where the old landline used to be, Duke said, “That ain’t our business,” while he filmed it for the feed. Nessa laughed too sharp, sleeve pulled down around a bruise, Rico counted pills in a napkin like he had something to lose. Denny tapped the cardboard once; the little body flinched, And mercy sat there waiting on permission from a drink.
Pre-chorus
One green feather on the sticky bar, glowing by the rail, Everybody has a limit till the limit comes in frail. The room smelled like old apologies, sour hops and rain, You could hear that tiny scratching cut straight through the game.
Chorus
We all keep little cages and call them Friday night. Dress the hurt up like a punchline underneath the neon light. That bird looked like the room did, just weaker in the glow, And nobody liked the mirror when it showed.
Verse 3
Rico told Duke, “Put the phone down,” Duke stood up too fast, Barstool legs screamed on the tile, blue screen hit the glass. Somebody yelled, “Don’t snitch,” somebody yelled, “Do right,” Both sounded scared of being seen under that cheap red light. Denny clutched the shoebox harder, cursed the whole room fake, Like being named was worse than any wing he helped to break.
Pre-chorus
One green feather on the sticky bar, blue lights in the pane, Everybody picks a side until the silence says your name. The sax line bent around the room, almost like a prayer, And nobody looked tough with judgment in the air.
Chorus
We all keep little cages and call them Friday night. Dress the hurt up like a punchline underneath the neon light. That bird looked like the room did, just weaker in the glow, And nobody liked the mirror when it showed.
Verse 4
Cops came in with winter faces, calm hands, clipped tone, Lifted that small shaking box like it weighed less than a phone. Questions hit the tables: who saw what, and when? Marlene pointed at the floor; Denny cursed again. I caught myself in mirrored liquor, pale under the red, My tab, my pills, my sleepless month lined up inside my head.
Bridge
“We all got something starving that we keep alive wrong.” No beat, just glass settling, vent hum, far siren song. A cage ain’t always wire; sometimes it’s ritual and spin, Sometimes it’s scrolling past the hurt because the night comes back again.
Verse 5
Marlene killed the register early, chairs went upside down, Neon still said OPEN to an empty, smoked-out town. I walked past the laundromat, 954 glowing on my cracked phone screen, Thumb over names I never call, pretending that means clean. By midnight they were posting clips, making jokes, making plans, And I heard cardboard scratching in the silence of my hands.
Pre-chorus
One green feather on the sticky bar, that picture wouldn’t fade, Everybody went back normal like a debt already paid. But I know what the mirror was, and what it asked of me, How quick we call it nothing when it’s casual cruelty.
Chorus
We all keep little cages and call them Friday night. Dress the hurt up like a punchline underneath the neon light. That bird looked like the room did, just weaker in the glow, And nobody liked the mirror when it showed.
Outro
Sports still playing on mute somewhere, no winner in the frame. Neon buzzing like a bad tooth, and I can’t drink quite the same.
Inside the recording
Neon buzzing like a bad tooth over bottles gone brown, Sports on mute, rain in the gutter, nobody proud.
One green feather on the sticky bar, floating in the foam, Whole room looking anywhere except the thing called wrong.
Sports still playing on mute somewhere, no winner in the frame. Neon buzzing like a bad tooth, and I can’t drink quite the same.
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.