Ein fensterloser Saloon, in dem ein falsches Wort Rippen bricht. Über Stolz, Ego und Kriege, die leiser beginnen als ein Flüstern und in Blut enden.
Cards on the table, knuckles in rust
Whiskey moves quiet from hand to hand
No one's a hero, no one's a real good man now
Laughter sits thin in a crooked smile
Eyes measure weight from across the aisle
Chairs scrape wood when the tension shifts
One wrong word in a room like this
Turns air into broken ribs
This saloon got no windows, the night stays in
One look too long and the room caves in
We came in quiet, we leave in blood
All it takes is a name in the wrong man's mouth
This saloon got no windows, no space to run
Peace sits here 'til it's overdone
One hand on a glass, one hand in a coat
It don't take much to snap a throat
Two men arguing over a piece of the past
Who owed who first, who laughed at who last
Poker chips shaking like loose teeth
A joke hits wrong, now the room don't breathe
A chair goes flying, the bottle breaks
The floor learns stories from every face
No law in the room, just pride on the line
Every man here thinks he's right tonight
I've seen wars start quieter than this
Just breath and ego and broken wrists
Men build their graves with one loud word
Then call it honor when blood gets stirred
This saloon got no windows, the night stays in
It don't take a gun to start this sin
We walked in strangers with steady hands
We walk out enemies who don't stand
This saloon got no windows, no bell to end
Just fists in the dark and wood that bends
By the time the dust learns how to move
The room's already split in two
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