[Intro][The held chord from track one breaks into floor toms. A muted guitar follows the rattle of the curtain rail.]

[Spoken Word: Lead Vocal]

Do not lower it yet.

[Verse 1]

The curtain hangs heavy, its red gone brown,
Forty years of smoke have worn the velvet down.
A safety pin catches where the seam pulled free,
Our first-show date hides underneath graffiti.
The stagehand pulls; the old runners resist,
The front row roars as his fist knocks it loose.

[Pre-Chorus]

No wreath on the speaker, no black on the wall,
No careful goodbye dressed up for the hall.
The house lights narrow; the pulley kicks in,
The curtain climbs crooked. Let the living begin.

[Chorus]

Red curtain rising, every lower edge torn,
Patched after midnight, pulled open every morn.
Raise it again; let the dust cross the light,
We did not come to surrender tonight.
Red curtain rising, rope burns in the hand;
The room comes alive when the first chord lands.

[Verse 2]

The guitarist tapes where the cable split,
The drummer turns the stool till the loose legs fit.
I ink fourteen names on the back of my hand,
For the small first crowd that made us a band.
Moe lifts his camera, then lowers it slow:
"I have seen last nights that refused to let go."

[Pre-Chorus]

No sponsor speech, no screen counting down,
Just the bar staff working and the friends still in town.
The front row presses; the pulley kicks in,
The curtain climbs crooked. Let the living begin.

[Chorus]

Red curtain rising, every lower edge torn,
Patched after midnight, pulled open every morn.
Raise it again; let the dust cross the light,
We did not come to surrender tonight.
Red curtain rising, rope burns in the hand;
The room comes alive when the first chord lands.

[Drum Break][Floor toms answer the audience claps; guitars strike only the first beat of each bar.]

[Verse 3]

The first song lands crooked, the second lands clean,
By the third, loose glass dances under the machine.
A volunteer catches the falling microphone,
Then shouts every word as if it were his own.
Heat lifts the curtain clear of the stage,
Every repair holds another night in place.

[Bridge]

Someday they may fold it and price it by weight,
Call it worn furnishing, call the salvage late.
But cloth takes the shape of the hands hauling through,
This cloth knows what a small band can do.

[Final Chorus]

Red curtain rising, every lower edge torn,
Patched after midnight, pulled open every morn.
Raise it again; let the dust cross the light,
We did not come to surrender tonight.
Red curtain rising, hold fast to the wire:
The building is threatened; the room is still on fire.

[Audience]

Raise it again!
Raise it again!

[Outro][The guitars stop together. The curtain keeps swinging while the singer walks to the bar.]
