[Verse 1] Neon bleeds across a trembling bar counter, Stained cuff, dried wine on a lopsided tie. A voicemail blinks—an old friend’s cracked whisper— “Call me when you stop pretending you’re fine.” The jukebox coughs a tune I used to know, Reflections wobble like a guilty past. My hands count change, my pulse keeps time with the hum— It still sings my name at 2AM, loud and fast. [Pre-Chorus ] I breathe. The room gets small. Your voice—cuts through the wall. [Chorus ] Last call, I hand it back. Your light cuts through the black. Last call, I hand it back. Your mercy rips the label off my past. [Verse 2] Bar stool holds the outline of mistakes I wore, A cracked mirror keeps a half-forgotten face. A cigarette and lipstick on the counter— Neon halo framing every missing grace. The bottle leans in like an old, persuasive friend, Promises the quiet that forgets the pain. But under all the static, under the hiss, Your voice drowns the hum in my veins. [Pre-Chorus ] I stand. The night wants more. Your hand—an open door. [Chorus ] Last call, I hand it back. Your light cuts through the black. Last call, I hand it back. Your mercy rips the label off my past. [Bridge ] (Quiet — breathe) Glass slides. It trembles—falls. Hands unclench; the ring of ice on the floor. A streetlight paints the sidewalk like a seam, A broken silhouette steps toward a new refrain. I almost turn away—there’s a whisper in my ear: “It still sings, it still calls,” but something else is clear. I drop the bottle, leave the echo where it lay, A long slow exhale, the dawn keeps the night at bay. [Chorus — Big / Distorted] Last call, I hand it back. Your light cuts through the black. Last call, I hand it back. Your mercy rips the label off my past. [Outro ] Savior in the glass — I used to read your name in every ring, every rim, every ruined frame. Now the neon fades; the chorus keeps me sane. Last call — I hand it back — I’m not the same.