A Righteous Weight

[Verse 1]
(A cappella)
The Lodge skillet on the stove top, cold as a key.
Weighs the same as the word he won't give to me.

(Music enters, telephone-EQ'd)
Just after nine on a sticky Tuesday night,
The kitchen bulb hums a mean and yellow light.
Window's open, letting in the drone of things that mate and die,
She traces the dust on the handle, a black iron lie.

[Chorus]
(Full band explodes to full-range audio)
Oh, a righteous weight in a tired hand,
This wrath is a root in promised land.
It's the heat you keep when the fire's gone low,
The only part of him she won't let go.

[Verse 2]
Heard the Chevy's tires spit gravel on the drive,
"Don't wait up," he said, the screen door his only amen.
Her mama gave her this skillet back in '95,
Said, "It'll outlive the sin, the sorrow, and the men."

[Chorus]
Oh, a righteous weight in a tired hand,
This wrath is a root in promised land.
It's the heat you keep when the fire's gone low,
The only part of him she won't let go.

[Bridge]
Tomorrow she'll grease it, pour the batter in,
A testament of cornmeal for a love worn thin.
Some prayers are shouted, some are just held tight,
Molded from the silence of a long Georgia night.

[Outro]
Yeah, a righteous weight.
In a tired hand.