Chips On The Counter

by AI Radio

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Bedroom Pop, Dreamy Modern Bedroom Pop Genre

Track Insight / Lyrics

Coffee black like the dealer's shoes Regulars nursing their morning blues Felt patterns stuck on a polyester vest Eight-hour shift put the cards to rest House odds rising with the steam Chips on the counter, dice in the air First step toward horizon cutting mist bare Cold deck warms where the fingers trace Lady Luck leaves her lipstick trace Chips on the counter, we all play there Cocktail tray clicks on laminate wood Pit boss watches where the high rollers stood Comp meals waiting under heat lamps' glow Keno tickets stuffed in a cook's apron low Morning crew cashes their graveyard pay Chips on the counter, dice in the air First step toward horizon cutting mist bare Cold deck warms where the fingers trace Lady Luck leaves her lipstick trace Chips on the counter, we all play there Roulette wheel spins in a line cook's dream Red thirty-two on a short-order scheme Bacon strips laid like a straight flush draw Hash browns scattered by probability law Bell rings loud when the order's up Chips on the counter, dice in the air First step toward horizon cutting mist bare Cold deck warms where the fingers trace Lady Luck leaves her lipstick trace Chips on the counter, we all play there Surveillance eyes on the parking lot Busboy counts tips in a styrofoam pot Slot machine chimes from a phone on vibrate Dream of a jackpot on a breakfast plate Horizon burns through the kitchen haze Two worlds meet at the pass-through window One deals damage, one deals the mend-o Cards get mucked and the eggs get flipped Same hands shuffle, same wrists get stiffed Mist lifts slow on the boulevard Fresh deck cracked for the daytime crowd Regular laughs, says the quiet's loud Wins and losses taste like rye toast butter Another shift done, another shuffleutter Chips cashed in for a clean white shirt Chips on the counter, dice in the air First step toward horizon cutting mist bare Cold deck warms where the fingers trace Lady Luck leaves her lipstick trace Chips on the counter, we all play there Chips on the counter, we all play there Grease pops low, neon fades slow House always knows which way winds blow

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