Lintel

[Verse 1]
The keypad on the Deptford block is beeping out your blood type,
you watch the streetlights smear the window, second sleepless floodlight.
At 4:19 on the microwave, you map the cracks in the plaster,
a blueprint for a body that is holding it together faster
than the architect intended. You are rebar frame and header joist,
you are the hum from the freezer, you're the only steady voice
telling you to stand up straight. Your spine's a load-bearing column now,
the building settled years ago, no way to walk away from it now.

[Chorus]
You are the lintel now.
Don't look down.
Don't make a sound.
The whole house is on you now.

[Verse 2]
Your shoulders ache in a way that isn't muscle, it's foundation,
a deep-set structural fatigue, a city's silent station.
Remember when the hairline split appeared above the doorframe?
Mum said, "You're the roof over our heads," and it felt more like a brand name.
You trace the scar below your knee, the one from when you fell off the wall,
that was the last time that you can remember ever feeling small.
Now you're the window and the wall, the insulation and the wiring,
the boiler that won't ever quit, the part that won't consider tiring.

[Bridge]
(sound of all effects dropping out, vocal becomes completely dry and close)
You just wanted a room with a window that opens.
(effects and beat crash back in)
Too late for that.

[Chorus]
You are the lintel now.
Don't look down.
Don't make a sound.
The whole house is on you now.

[Outro]
The whole house is on you now.
The concrete's humming on you now.