Permit to Demolish

[Verse 1]
Antoine, they gave me the boxes today, flat-packed and brown.
Ten years come Tuesday since the hit-and-run took you out of this town.
I'm taping the bottoms, the scrape of it echoes, the only sound
In this room we called a kingdom, built on cracked Oak Park ground.
First thing to go: your Jordans, the '89 Fire Reds,
Still laced up by the doorway, kickin' ghosts in my head.
I'm folding the posters, the vinyl collection is getting prepped,
Every sleeve got your thumbprint, a promise unkept.

[Chorus]
They gave me a permit to demolish this room for my own sake.
Said I gotta clear the foundation for whatever new life I make.
And I'm just… thankful for the breakage, for the unbearable weight.
Thank you for the mess you left me. It's the best thing I can save.

[Verse 2]
Out the window, a crane is revising the Broadway skyline.
They're putting up glass towers where we used to chalk the lines.
Mom says, "It's time, Jamal," and she don't mean the rent is climbin'.
She means the dust on your Fender smells like July and cryin'.
Remember that crack in the plaster? The one shaped like the state line?
You said it was a fault line, a structural design.
Now I'm tracing it over, a map of what's yours and what's mine,
Realizing this whole damn building was held up by your spine.

[Bridge]
And I'm scared when the silence gets bigger, when there's no more stuff to pack,
That the ghost in the drywall will finally get the hint and won't come back.

[Outro]
One last box. It's heavy. It just says 'Antoine' in black.
Permit's signed. Time to go.