Suture Lines

[Verse 1]
(Sound of a voicemail tone, then a deep breath)
Hey, it's… uh… The linoleum's peeling by the radiator still.
Got a stack of blue-strips sitting on the windowsill where the dust collects.
It's Tuesday, 3:17, and I'm running diagnostics on these past regrets.
Same table we did homework on, remember Mami sayin' "'Mi'ja, count it twice"?
Well, I been counting for an hour, tryna figure out the price.
This whole procedure feels elective, like they're numbing out a nerve.
But the phantom limb is twitching, getting what I don't deserve.

[Chorus]
Paid in full but the wound ain't clean.
This ain't a glow-up, it's a new saline.
Drip-drip-drip, the prognosis is showing,
That the scar tissue's the only thing growing.

[Verse 2]
Remember that summer job I had? Up on Mosholu Parkway?
The one with the white carpet that smelled of nothing, just clean air all day?
Scrubbing their tubs was a deep-tissue biopsy
of everything they had, and everything I could not be.
And now I'm paying cash for cars they wouldn't let me park.
It's a transplant rejection, a reaction in the dark.
They told me money heals it all, a universal cure,
but my body's fighting back, I'm pathologically unsure.

[Chorus]
Paid in full but the wound ain't clean.
This ain't a glow-up, it's a new saline.
Drip-drip-drip, the prognosis is showing,
That the scar tissue's the only thing growing.

[Bridge]
Sorry, I'm rambling... you hear the D train?
Guess some bass lines are just stuck in your membrane.
They said the money's a tourniquet, stops the bleed,
but it just numbs the limb, doesn't plant a new seed.

[Outro]
(A sigh, followed by the electronic click of a phone hanging up)
...Guess my minutes ran out.