[Intro]
[Two quiet slide-guitar notes into close-miked acoustic chords.]

[Male Vocal]
[Verse 1]
I found it under cable dust,
Beside a nail gone brown with rust.
A red pick, worn along one side,
Your initials cut with a pocketknife.
You threw it down the night you said,
"I need a job that pays for bread."

[Chorus]
Red pick under the stage,
Small red witness to a younger rage.
I thought the brave were those who stayed;
I know now what your leaving paid.
Red pick under the stage,
Both leave a mark beneath the stage.

[Verse 2]
I called you coward, called you fake,
Said every dream demands a stake.
Your little girl was turning three;
Her winter coat outranked the dream.
Joe says you drive the morning line,
Still tap the wheel in four-four time.

[Chorus]
Red pick under the stage,
Small red witness to a younger rage.
I thought the brave were those who stayed;
I know now what your leaving paid.
Red pick under the stage,
Both leave a mark beneath the stage.

[Guitar Solo]
[Mara plays a slow blues melody with the red pick.]

[Bridge]
I dialed the number Joe still knew.
At five past six, you said, "Who?"
I said my name; one long beat passed.
"Save me room. My four-string needs repairs."

[Final Chorus]
Red pick under the stage,
Tonight it leaves its wooden cage.
Bring your old four-string, bring what remains;
We'll play the years without the blame.
Red pick under the stage,
No longer buried under rage.

[Outro]
Red against the chrome machine,
Tomorrow night, half past eight.
An old friend walks back through the gate.
