male gritty tenor, chesty shouted

Monday morning, coffee’s gone,
Jordan’s been sittin’ there way too long.
Grippin’ the seat with a thousand-yard stare,
Prayin’ for a miracle, but nothin’ down there.

Face turnin’ crimson, veins poppin’ out,
Neighbors think he’s fightin’, hear him yell and shout.
He says, “This is it!”… then he shakes his head,