Our Paper Shuttle

[Verse 1]
Jesse, the Zenith hummed low on that January second-to-last.
You melted Crayola wax on the radiator for a better kind of blue.
Your little hands patched a hole in the Lowcountry sky, built to last,
While I darned a hole in your sock, half-watching the evening news.

[Chorus]
(Sung by brighter, layered vocal harmonies)
Tomorrow, we all look up
From the pluff mud to the open air.
Tomorrow, we'll drink the cup,
A prayer on a silver stair.

[Verse 2]
The anchor said her name, Christa, a teacher from a town of snow.
"'She looks like Mom,' you said," your voice a bright, unbroken thread.
You gave her a crayon smile in the window, watched the static glow,
And taped her to the ceiling right above your little bed.

[Chorus]
(Sung by brighter, layered vocal harmonies)
Tomorrow, we all look up
From the pluff mud to the open air.
Tomorrow, we'll drink the cup,
A prayer on a silver stair.

[Bridge]
(Billie's lead vocal, raw and close)
And for a moment, I believed in the upward pull,
The clean escape, a seam that never rips...
(The harmony vocals swell underneath, dream-like)
A future, full...

[Outro]
Your paper shuttle, tacked up where the paint is chipped.
A perfect, simple promise, the moment 'fore it slipped.