Neon Numbers Over My Head
bright Numbers Over My Head
My face is not on the window but it’s hanging in their eyes
Little payday loan shop burning red against the skies
Sign says “Bad credit welcome” in soft electric green
Like a spider saying “friend” to every fly it’s ever seen.
I walk in with my paycheck already spoken for and thin
They smile like they’re my savior while they type my trouble in
Run my life through their machine
watch the numbers shake their head
Then offer me a lifeline made of interest, fees
and dread.
Hook
I got bright numbers over my head where a future ought to be
Credit score like a warning sign only they can see
They dress the trap in friendly light on this busted avenue
Every dollar that I borrow comes back wanting three or two.
They print out thirty pages that they know I’ll never read
Highlight just the signature lines that fatten up their score
I sign away next Friday just to keep the heat turned on
Trade a week of breathing for a month of being conned.
Out on the same block, banks shine higher in the glass
Marble floors and quiet doors that I no longer pass
Once you drop below their number you’re a shadow outside the gate
So you end up with the vultures who pretend they care.
Hook
I got bright numbers over my head where a future ought to be
Three digits on a scoreboard that decide what’s left of me
They sell me “second chances” under buzzing plastic light
But every signed “agreement” pulls the day further from night.
I’m not bad with money, I’m just drowning in the rent
Car repair, kid’s shoes, one surprise and I’m bent
They talk like I am broken, like my character is scored
But all I did was live here while the cost cut through the floorboard.
Phone rings on a Tuesday, different voice
same hungry tone
“Just a courtesy reminder” that they own my skin and bone
Late fee stacked on late fee till the total makes me laugh
It’s either that or throw this contract through their bright glass.
I start writing down the numbers of the shit I can let go
Cable bill, old card, streaming crap I barely know
Call the bank, shut down the mess
tell the landlord I need time
Walk past that glowing loan sign like it’s begging for my crime.
Hook
I got bright numbers over my head but I’m learning how to walk
Without letting every three-digit verdict be the only talk
They can keep their little offices and their fake
saintly light
I’m done selling them my tomorrows just to patch one night of snow.
One by one I kill the debts that kept me kneeling in their light
Might be broke for half a decade
but at least I sleep at night
Let that credit score crawl upward at the speed of drying paint
I’d rather be poor and breathing than chained to their complaint.