            
[Intro] [Tired, out-of-tune pub piano | Hiss of a radiator | Distorted distant traffic]

[Verse 1][Deadpan Spoken Word]
You don’t turn a single head in the street...
Those magazine covers? They’d laugh at the thought. 
Your wardrobe is a thrift-store tragedy, 
But in this light, it’s exactly what I bought.

[Pre-Chorus][Dissonant String Swell]
The mirror is a witness that won't take a bribe.
My own reflection? A mournful, grey tribe. 
I’m no Brad Pitt. I’m a landslide in a suit. 
So lower your standards... and taste the fruit.

[Chorus][Style: Gritty Roadhouse Blues]
You aren’t a ten. Let’s not pretend.
But I’m a generous two, approaching the end.
The bank is empty. The prospects are dead.
So settle for me... and stay in my head.

[Bridge][Sudden Half-time | Music Box Melody]
The landlord is knocking. The car is a husk.
We’re two shadows fading into the dusk.
It’s a bargain we’ve struck in the dirt and the rain.
A less-than-perfect love... for a more-than-certain pain.

[Outro][Fading into Phone Static]
What the heck... What the hell... I’ll settle for you.
[Silence]