Unspoken Masonry

[Verse 1]
The blue Indomie kiosk by the Lighthouse smells of ginger and exhaust fumes.
First Friday since the rains stopped in August, Kwame's new sneakers ain't wet.
He built a whole new floor on his ambition, left the old foundation to crack.
Ebo watches a welder's torch flash 'cross the street, no looking back.

[Chorus]
Eh! This silence we're building is heavy stone.
From the same block, but you feel like a postcode I don't know.

[Verse 2]
The handshake lasts too long, skin feels like dry clay, not like bone.
Kwame pulls out a fifty, says "'Relax,' chale, I got this," but Ebo's already gone.
Paid the woman with coins from his own worn pocket, a quiet act of war.
Left the chilled bottle of Orijin sweating on the counter by the door.

[Chorus]
Eh! This silence we're building is heavy stone.
From the same block, but you feel like a postcode I don't know.

[Bridge]
A phone screen glows, a picture from '09, a ghost of a grin.
For a second, the scaffolding holds, lets a little bit of light back in.

[Outro]
One wall still stands.
Two different blueprints in their hands.