The Wrong Shape
Verse 1 Office smells of carpet and the burn
Pamphlets on the wall at every turn. She reads the paper
stops upon the line
Where three of us have tried to make a sign. A practiced smile upon the tired face
She says we have to simplify the case. One legal partner
roommates for the rest
The system likes the simple couples best.
Verse 2 We sit on plastic chairs that squeak and slide
Knees are touching
hands are trying to hide. She asks about the custody and care
Who signs the paper when the hurt is there? The love that felt so balanced in the hall
Shrinks beneath the lighting on the wall. We see how thin the safety really stands
When the world ignores the extra hands.
Pre-Chorus On the street we look like friends in tow
Laughing loud and walking in a row. They don’t see the stamps we have to chase
The fear of being left outside the space.
Chorus We love in shapes that do not fit the chart
Edges spilling over every part. Holding more than what the plan allowed
Called a storm inside the quiet crowd. But when the rent is high or sickness comes
Many hands are beating steady skins. Strange how the thing they fear and push away
Is what protects us at the end of day.
Verse 3 His job is moving, offering the ride
One plus one
with nothing on the side. She runs the numbers on the laptop screen
Seeing who is left outside the scene. I swallow gravel
thick and heavy stone
Thinking of the promises we own. Policy is cutting like a knife
Picking who is real inside the life.
Pre-Chorus We don’t break up, we hold each other tight
Crying on the sofa in the night. Passing tissues
angry at the folks
Trying to cover it with little jokes.
Chorus We love in shapes that do not fit the chart
Edges spilling over every part. Holding more than what the plan allowed
Called a storm inside the quiet crowd. But when the rent is high or sickness comes
Many hands are beating steady skins. Strange how the thing they fear and push away
Is what protects us at the end of day.
Bridge Maybe laws will stretch to fit the mold
New boxes for the stories to be told. But now we write the wills with cheap ink pens
Scratching paths around the rules of men. We sign the papers
promise we are there
Even if the state acts unaware. The grief is not the loving that we do
It’s living in a world that breaks the view.
Outro Walking home beneath the orange light
Holding hands and holding on so tight. Wrong shape for them
but right size for the chest
And that is where we finally let it rest.