Intro:
Slow sax wail, shuffle groove—let the room breathe.
(Verse 1)
Morgan sits behind glass, counting stamped receipts,
Stacks of invoices piled high like city streets.
Phone rings unanswered, customers in line,
He signs another order, says "tomorrow's fine."
(Chorus) (Call & Response)
Singer: Oh Morgan, hear that register cry —
Band/Back: (Hear it cry)
Singer: Pockets full but trust runs dry.
Band/Back: (Runs dry)
Singer: Pockets packed with papers, promises and pay,
Band/Back: (Promises and pay)
Singer: Morgan's counting green while the gears decay.
(Verse 2)
He sells the service, every day, keeps all busy,
But bolts go missing, vans roll home dizzy.
A wheel without a bolt, a line with a leak,
A half-finished job, a customer on the phone, voice weak.
(Chorus) (Variation)
Singer: Oh Morgan, hear that register cry —
Band: (That register cry)
Singer: Money sings loud but the help runs dry.
Band: (Help runs dry)
Singer: Stamped receipts in pockets, orders in a row,
Band: (Orders in a row)
Singer: But trust is slipping fast, and the fix won't go.
(Verse 3) — Scene of fallout
Delivery rolls out, van missing a single bolt,
On the highway a wheel drops, sparks like a fault.
Customer stranded, baby cries in the back,
Complaint on the line, a loyal client lost track.
(Chorus) (Consequence)
Singer: Oh Morgan, feel that register cry —
Band: (Feel it cry)
Singer: Pockets full of orders but the line runs dry.
Band: (Line runs dry)
Singer: Papers flip like leaves, promises put on hold,
Band: (On hold)
Singer: Pockets full of orders, but hearts gone cold.
(Bridge) — Turning point
Quiet now, the office hum is thin and small,
Morgan stares at his hands through the glass wall.
A mirror of receipts, a ledger of his name,
He hears an empty echo where the customers once came.
No swagger in the step, no brass in his tone,
Regret slips in slow, he feels it to the bone.
(Instrumental Break)
Sax solo answers the truth—call-and-response of ache.
Guitar cries, piano drops like a rain-soaked wake.
(Verse 4) — Reckoning
He walks the lot at dusk, counting more than pay,
Finds a crushed invoice, a child turned away.
He offers a slow apology, but words are thin,
Money can't weld the trust that came unpinned.
(Final Chorus) — Resolution
Singer: Oh Morgan, hear that register cry —
Band: (Hear it cry)
Singer: Pockets full of orders, but the truth won't lie.
Band: (Truth won't lie)
Singer: Pockets packed with papers, promises and pay,
Band: (Promises and pay)
Singer: Listen to the blues now, Morgan—trust's the price you pay.
(Outro)
Sax fades, footsteps leave the hall,
Morgan's pockets heavy, but the room feels small.
He hums the same slow tune, learns the meter of the blues,
Counting invoices, counting loss, counting all his dues.
