Impeccable - Tombstone Chronicles I - Holworks Music - 2026 all rights reserved
Holworks Music - label, publisher
Mark S. Holman - song, production
Meristolis and the AI Choir - vocals, production
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The Song Story for Impeccable (from Tombstone Chronicles I – The Red Album) draws from the lyrics' nocturnal tension, sharp imagery of stained streets, silver strings, devil's chandelier, cash-lined backdoors, and that recurring, almost mocking refrain of "impeccable." It evokes a world of polished facades hiding gritty deals, fleeting highs, and the illusion of control—where perfection is a dangerous mask.In the shadowed alleys behind the neon glow of 1970s Chicago, where the L train rattled overhead like loose change in a pocket, walked Victor "Vic" Marlowe. He was the kind of man who always looked impeccable: tailored charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, cufflinks catching the streetlight like tiny blades. No wrinkles, no scuffs, no tells. Even his shoes—Italian leather—gleamed despite the gutter puddles and cigarette butts.Last Tuesday night, he'd had a fight with Lena, his on-again, off-again flame who worked the coat check at the Blue Velvet Lounge. Words flew like broken glass; she accused him of vanishing into the midnight deals while she waited. Vic couldn't explain the pull—the backdoor access, the clink of chips on felt, the silver string of luck he swung on like a trapeze artist in the devil's chandelier-lit casino hidden above a dry cleaners.He wondered how he could call her there, from a payphone on the corner, coins heavy in his palm. Would she join him on the fire escape stairs, overlooking the soup of time—lines drawn in steam rising from manholes, everything blurring into one impeccable lie?Vic ran numbers for a crew that dressed like bankers but moved like wolves. The strings were lined up in cash tonight: a high-stakes poker game where the house always smiled, not too much, never giving it away. He slipped through the backdoor, past the foreigner's eyes sizing up his disguise—thinking Vic was just another mark. But Vic's lines were pure: drawn in chalk on green baize or etched in marble permanence. It didn't matter. The game was rigged, but so was h
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Impeccable
Last Tuesday night
You said you had a fight
Couldn't get out into the midnight
I wonder how I could call you there
And if you would join me on the stairs
Time it's a line drawn in a soup
It all looks so impeccable[Chorus]
Impeccable
Street stained shoes
In the gutter what's there to lose
And if you swing on that silver string
In the light that brings the devil's chandelier
Ah, ah, impeccable
Oh, impeccable
Ah, ah, impeccable
Impeccable
Ah, ah, impeccable
Oh, impeccable
Ah, ah, impeccable
Impeccable[Verse 2]
All the strings are lined up in cash
Backdoor access to make a dash
Chips fall with a clink sound on and you smile
Not too much you don't want to give it away[Instrumental Solo][Bridge]
Oh, there's some foreigner's eyes
Thinking that you're gonna look at his disguise
But it doesn't matter if the lines are pure
Drawn in chalk or in marble cure[Chorus]
Impeccable
Impeccable
Are you so impeccable
Impeccable
Impeccable
Are you so impeccable
Oh, slip the shade turns around
The blackness hides this side of town
You can't creep that vision there
The lines are so impeccable
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