[Intro][No count-in. The singer holds the sale notice above the microphone; the band attacks one hard chord.]

[Spoken Word: Lead Vocal]

This was signed tonight.
Nine twenty-four.

[Verse 1]

A page in my hand has the time and the date,
Signed while you queued at the fire-exit gate.
No meeting at the bar, no warning at the door,
Two legal names and a price for the floor.
They measured the frontage, the ceiling, the stair;
They never priced Tuesday with six people there.

[Pre-Chorus]

The ink is still fresh; the decision came cold.
The room gained value the moment it sold.
You paid for a ticket; they purchased the ground.
Hear what this paper wants done to the sound.

[Chorus]

Sold above our heads, signed beneath our feet,
The future fits on one glossy render sheet.
Bar logged as timber, red curtain by the thread,
Then sold the air we sang in: sold above our heads.
Sold above our heads, but not inside our chests;
A deed owns the building, never the rest.

[Verse 2]

The drawing puts windows where amplifiers stand,
A plastic fern waits by reception in the plan.
The toilets turn to storage; the bar disappears;
The stage becomes parking with a lift at the rear.
"Redundant back space" marks the place we learned nerve;
The red curtain falls under "items to remove."

[Pre-Chorus]

The signature is final; the people are not.
A contract lists fixtures, but misses the cost.
You paid for a ticket; they purchased the ground.
Answer the paper with one organised sound.

[Chorus]

Sold above our heads, signed beneath our feet,
The future fits on one glossy render sheet.
Bar logged as timber, red curtain by the thread,
Then sold the air we sang in: sold above our heads.
Sold above our heads, but not inside our chests;
A deed owns the building, never the rest.

[Blackout][The venue power fails for real. No instruments, effects or backing track remain. The audience keeps time by stamping.]

[Lead / Audience]

Sold above our heads! / Not the people!
Sold above our heads! / Not the songs!

[Verse 3][Unamplified Lead Vocal]

No microphone carries the next words I say,
But the front row catches them and sends them away.
From shoulder to shoulder, from stairwell to street,
The sentence grows louder on hundreds of feet.
Moe climbs on the bar and shouts it back;
Emergency lamps turn the red curtain black.

[Instrumental Return][One old amplifier coughs into life. The drummer counts twice; the full band re-enters.]

[Bridge]

A building changes hands in less than a day;
A scene takes years of people choosing to stay.
Take out your phones, but do not point them at me:
Find the two names. Find the owning company.

[Guitar Solo][One guitar bends the three-note motif through raw feedback; the audience maintains the chorus pulse.]

[Final Chorus]

Sold above our heads, signed beneath our feet,
The future fits on one glossy render sheet.
Bar logged as timber, red curtain by the thread,
Then sold the air we sang in: sold above our heads.
Reed the name, reed the date, reed the address aloud;
The page has two names. This room has the crowd.

[Outro][The singer pins a photocopy to the microphone stand; the original remains unbroken.]

[Audience]

Not the people.
Not the songs.