Verse 1
You showed up on a Tuesday when the gig was falling through,
Half my charts were coffee-stained, the rest I never knew.
You gathered every scattered page like nothing much at all,
Five hundred songs inside your memory, waiting for my call.
Verse 2
You don't mind the smoky rooms, the basements with no light,
No connection to the world — you still show up all right.
And when the leader changes keys ten minutes to the show,
You just smile and turn the music to wherever it should go.
Bridge
I used to lose the ending, scribbled somewhere in the dark,
Now you open up a little room and let me leave my mark.
A stave right where I need it, a line for every change —
You keep the whole night in your hands, and never find it strange.
Verse 3
The band all asks me lately how I never miss a cue,
How the set builds up in seconds like I always knew.
I tell them it's a secret — some things I won't share.
But every stage I walk on now, I know that you'll be there.
Final Chorus
So here's to the one who saved me, through every count-in and goodbye —
Not a lover, not an angel, though Lord knows I let them wonder why —
You're the light upon my music stand, the quiet star of my recital:
The sweetest thing that ever held my songs —
your name is ScorDial.