Scoured Palms

[Verse 1]
The Comet powder dusts the air on our Echo Park tile.
July of ‘09 floods back for a little while.
Felt that same chemical grit underneath my nails,
scrubbing water marks off the baseboards, leaving trails.
The humidity was a blanket, a solid, breathing thing.

[Chorus]
And these ain't supposed to be my ghosts to keep.
Got these scoured palms even in my sleep.
Tryna wash away a stain that the river made deep.
This ain't supposed to be the sorrow I reap.

[Verse 2]
Third house on Sycamore, the one with the busted screen door.
Yellowed floral wallpaper peeling, seen that green before.
"Just toss it all," he said from the air-conditioned truck.
Found a plastic soldier melted on the sill, stuck.
A distant freight train moaned like it was giving up.

[Bridge]
You say the pressure's dropping, feel it in the room.
Baby, that's just Cairo pushing through the gloom.
It's a different kind of thunder under this California moon.

[Chorus]
And these ain't supposed to be my ghosts to keep.
Got these scoured palms even in my sleep.
Tryna wash away a stain that the river made deep.
This ain't supposed to be the sorrow I reap.

[Outro]
Yeah, even in my sleep.
That river stain runs deep.