Late Table for Two

[Verse 1]
Crooked candle
short glass, slow melt
You stir sugar in your coffee
like you’re tasting how I felt
Sideways laughter
napkin notes, half true
Every question that you dodge
sounds like “I miss you”
[Chorus]
Late table for two
but the night got here early
All these empty chairs listening in
You trace the rim of that cup
till my name comes out blurry
Are we strangers again, or almost friends?
Late table for two
and we’re dancing around the truth
[Verse 2]
Your watch flashing
last train, last call
You say “we were just too young”
but you don’t sound sure at all
That old story
spilling drop by drop
If I lean in any closer
I won’t know how to stop
[Chorus]
Late table for two
but the night got here early
All these empty chairs listening in
You trace the rim of that cup
till my name comes out blurry
Are we strangers again, or almost friends?
Late table for two
and we’re dancing around the truth
[Bridge]
Maybe this time
we don’t rewind
Just let the record fade
Or maybe this time
we change one line
and stay
[Chorus]
Late table for two
but the night feels less heavy
Every sip sounds almost like “begin”
You reach across all the ghosts
hands a little unsteady
Are we strangers again, or almost friends?
Late table for two
and you say, “I still choose you”

jazz, Smoky small-club jazz combo: brushed drums, upright bass walking lazily, warm piano voicings, and a breathy female vocal up close on the mic. Horn comes in on the second chorus with soft, round phrases. Dynamic arc stays intimate, with a gentle lift in the bridge and a final hush on the last line.