Odum's Rebuke

[Verse 1]
My grain was shaped by your father's hands, off a side street in Peckham.
He sanded me smooth of splinters, humming a Sunday psalm.
He set me down on the lino floor, turpentine still warm on my skin.
And whispered in Twi, "Akwaaba, me ba," let your new life begin.

[Chorus]
But the song you play now is a beautiful rebuke.
To the quiet you carried, the chances you never took.
This isn't survival, it's a holy design.
I feel your joy rattle this old frame of mine.

[Verse 2]
I held the weight of your law books, the salt from a Tuesday's cry.
I crossed the ocean in packing foam, under a different sky.
Now the heat from this Bronx radiator clicks a different kind of beat.
And I watch you dance in the kitchen, half-dressed and so bittersweet.

[Chorus]
And the song you play now is a beautiful rebuke.
To the quiet you carried, the chances you never took.
This isn't survival, it's a holy design.
I feel your joy rattle this old frame of mine.

[Bridge]
Your rhythm finds the weakest seam in this room's heavy air.
You're weaving every broken thread into a pattern of repair.

[Outro]
He carved me just to hold you.
But you learned how to stand.