Unsettled Ground

[Verse 1]
The marble gleam, it's blinding me, a foreign, cold embrace.
I trace the lines of every tile, searching for my old place.
This gilded framework feels too new, like plaster freshly laid,
And every compliment a tremor, a truth I've always swayed.
My roots run deep in cracked concrete, not polished parquet floor,
Still smell the café steam, knocking at a different door.

[Chorus]
They call me architect, but these blueprints ain't my own.
Hear a tremor in the silence: 'You're building on borrowed stone.'
This grand design, it feels too heavy, like a load-bearing lie,
Waiting for the structure's owner, to question what I claim as high.

[Verse 2]
The scaffolding's been lifted now, the finished work displayed,
But I remember every nail, each sacrifice we've made.
For every thriving branch they see, a hidden root did strain,
A quiet pact with generations, weathering the Miami rain.
I see my abuelo's steady hand in every column here,
A ghost in every shadow, whispering, 'Why are you still in fear?'

[Chorus]
They call me architect, but these blueprints ain't my own.
Hear a tremor in the silence: 'You're building on borrowed stone.'
This grand design, it feels too heavy, like a load-bearing lie,
Waiting for the structure's owner, to question what I claim as high.

[Bridge]
This elevation, bittersweet, a view from heights unknown,
My heart still hums the street-level rhythm, where my true self was sown.
A mosaic of ambition, pieced with longing, thin and frail,
The fear of cracking under pressure, a whisper through the gale.

[Outro]
Just a low hum in the mortar, a story yet untold,
Wondering if these walls will stand, or if they'll crumble, cold.