[Intro — both guitars, loose groove]


[Verse 1 — Vocal 1 lead]

Coffee cold on the windowsill
Sun came up against my will
Rolled the bag like a holy scroll
Shook it twice, but the bones don’t grow

There’s a green little ghost in the corner seam
Dust and stems and a broke-down dream
You said, “Brother, we’ve been here before”
I said, “Yeah… but I was hoping for more”

[Pre-Chorus — both vocals, tighter rhythm]

Scrape the table
Tilt the tray
Say a prayer to yesterday
If there’s a crumb with a name
We’re gonna call it by faith

[Chorus — big harmony, warm and memorable]

We’re on the L.B.O.W.
Last bag of weed and nowhere to go
Low in the pocket, high in the soul
Passing the silence around real slow

Yeah, the world keeps spinning
And the wind still blows
But everybody knows
When you’re on the L.B.O.W.
You don’t smoke alone

[Verse 2 — Vocal 2 lead, Vocal 1 low harmony on last words]

Found a lighter in the couch again
No flame, just a little old friend
Jar smells like July and rain
But the bottom looks honest and plain

Bass walks in with a sympathetic grin
Brushes on the snare like, “Here we go again”
Two guitars making poor men rich
With a back porch hymn and a nervous twitch

[Pre-Chorus 2 — call and response]

Vocal 1:
Tap the grinder
Vocal 2:
Shake the tin
Vocal 1:
Look for mercy
Vocal 2:
Look again

Both:
If the night’s got teeth
We’ll grin right through
There’s a little bit left
And it tastes like truth

[Chorus — both vocals, stronger harmony]

We’re on the L.B.O.W.
Last bag of weed and nowhere to go
Low in the pocket, high in the soul
Passing the silence around real slow

Yeah, the world keeps spinning
And the wind still blows
But everybody knows
When you’re on the L.B.O.W.
You don’t smoke alone

[Bridge — softer, sincere, almost hymn-like]

Here’s to the saints with the empty tins
The kitchen-chair kings with the sleepy grins
The “just one more” and the “save that half”
The broke little legends who still can laugh

Here’s to the hands that pass it on
To the friends who stay when the good stuff’s gone
When the stash gets thin and the mood gets low
You find out what you already know

[Breakdown / Groove Section — spoken/sung, playful but cool]

Vocal 1:
There might be something by the record stack
Vocal 2:
No, man, I checked that
Vocal 1:
What about the car?
Vocal 2:
Don’t start with the car

Both, harmonized:
We ain’t dry
We’re just…
Philosophically low

[Final Chorus — open, communal]

We’re on the L.B.O.W.
Last bag of weed and nowhere to go
Low in the pocket, high in the soul
Passing the silence around real slow

Raise up the jar
Let the last leaf show
Sing it soft, sing it slow
For everyone living on the L.B.O.W.
You don’t smoke alone

[Outro — fading harmonies]

Vocal 1:
Bottom of the bag
Vocal 2:
Top of the night
Vocal 1:
Not much left
Vocal 2:
But we’ll be alright

Both:
L.B.O.W.
L.B.O.W.
Last bag of weed…
And we’re singing it low.