The marble floor hums beneath my polished shoes
The doorman recognizes all the names I choose
I settle in the booth where the record plays
Only faces that the host allows can stay
They pour the house wine but a different price
The conversation filters by a sharp device
My habits earn a table kept behind the glass
The staff already pour the water when I pass
The cover charge is status, not a loan
Each whisper tells a secret that you've always known
I keep my name inscribed upon the private stone
The list is short and I have nothing to atone
The private chairs are numbered for the ones who wait
The list is curated like a private estate
But I keep choosing this room as my zone
Where nobody gets in without a phone
Knock on the gold door
The lock reads my name and opens
My reservation is cut in stone
Recognition rings in my tone
The chandelier sways
My reservation holds through all my days
The room adjusts to my own pace
And the evening comes without a trace
It's my space
The private staircase hides in marble white
The invitation carries no date in sight
My name was penciled in months ago
And every season I am still allowed to show
The table cloth is changed but never sold
The regulars are listed in a private fold
The veterans get a nod when they cross the line
The newcomers wait for a signal or a sign
There is no price tag on the velvet chair
But your prior credit built the right to be there
The early warning tells the staff to keep a space
And the late arrivals never find a trace
The private chairs are numbered for the ones who wait
The list is curated like a private estate
But I keep choosing this room as my zone
Where nobody gets in without a phone
Knock on the gold door
The lock reads my name and opens
The names on the wall are few
And the velvet curve leads straight to you
No other choices
The door keeps the sound of several voices
The new passcode lives in my brain
Every booth has its lock and chain
I'm sealed in
