Devil At The Sinners Saloon

[Intro]
[crackling radio, distant band]
Static in the smoke
Laughing through the gloom
Clock strikes doom
In the back of the room
[Verse 1]
Boot prints burning
Right through the sawdust floor
Red smile turning
As he tips his hat at the door
He buys one round
For the lost and the soon-to-be-lost
Says, “I’m back in town
And the house will cover the cost” (oh yeah)
[Chorus]
He’s at the sinners saloon
Grinning under that brim
Says, “Midnight’s coming soon
And every tab runs through him”
He’s just getting started
Takes names like they’re tunes
If your heart’s half-hearted
He’ll be waiting at the sinners saloon
[Verse 2]
Dealer starts shaking
Cards cut clean in half
Every promise you’re breaking
He stacks them, laughs
He waltzes with widows
Spins them straight through the haze
Pulls hope from pillows
Leaves teeth in the praise (hey!)
[Chorus]
He’s at the sinners saloon
Grinning under that brim
Says, “Midnight’s coming soon
And every tab runs through him”
He’s just getting started
Takes names like they’re tunes
If your heart’s half-hearted
He’ll be waiting at the sinners saloon
[Bridge]
He don’t rush, he lingers
Tapping ash, tapping time
Traces lines with his fingers
Down the spine of your crime
Says, “I’ll be here, kid
When the church bells croon
Drink up what you did
I’ll be waiting in this room” (oh yeah)
[Chorus]
He’s at the sinners saloon
Grinning under that brim
Says, “Sun’ll rise too soon
But the lights stay dark for him”
He’s just getting started
Takes names like they’re tunes
If your soul’s departed
He’ll be waiting at the sinners saloon
[Outro]
[band hits, radio fades to static]
He’ll be waiting
He’ll be waiting
In the sinners saloon

jazz, Fast, sinister 1940s jazz combo with male vocals; brushed snare racing under a walking upright bass, stabbing minor-key piano, and snarling muted trumpet. Old-time radio crackle filters the whole mix at the top and tail; choruses bloom into raw, shouted gang vocals in the background. Energy starts with a sly, low croon, then escalates into frantic swing on the last chorus, ending on a sharp, dissonant hit that rings out., moody