Just the plucked strings first—a little twang, a little glass, already rocking in small repeats.

Her voice comes in on that same figure and answers the northern-star line without breaking it.

Now it's bar light, a coaster, blue TV glow—close images, and the plucking stays uncluttered.

She draws the Canada map, then the line starts climbing into blood like holy wine.

Refrain lifts higher there—but the strings don't get bigger underneath.

Case of you lands calm, and she's still on her feet.

Painter verse. Same spare pluck under a more self-describing line.

Fear and pull show up in the words; her tone stays clear instead of thickening.

She leaves a little air on love is touching souls, then writes it back into the figure.

Holy wine again—same rise, same steady strings, like she's proving she can still stand.

Another woman walks into the lyric, mouth like his, and the arrangement barely flinches.

Be prepared to bleed sits right inside that gentle pluck. Nothing suddenly threatens.

Blood and wine come back after the warning—same song, more history behind it.

Last case of you, then still on her feet one more time, almost matter-of-fact.

The plucked figure falls away, her last shape lets go, and it empties into a short quiet.