Five Minutes From Aisle Nine

You sent a voice note

from the interstate highway

Saying you're five minutes out,

but I know how you drive

You're probably still locked

in that thrift-store fitting room Trying on vintage shirts to feel alive (mmmmm)

But this is cheap-date devotion in the grocery store Buying day-old flowers

by aisle number nine

Yeah, you might lie about the clock and the distance But I'll

wait

forever

for your hand in mine

I hear the hangers clinking

in the background of your message The yellow curtain hanging off the

single metal hook

You're holding up a jacket,

staring in the dusty mirror Taking way too long to get a

second look

But then the phone line goes quiet,

and you start to speak real low You say you found your

father's old denim on the rack And you just needed five minutes

in the dark of that stall To decide if you're ever

going back

Take all the time you need

I'm still in aisle nine (yeah)