Hammer in the Hand
By Fedora Rex
Fourteen doors by the time I learned to drive,
Threw my shoes in the bin just to stay alive.
Anger like a fever, teeth gritting on the bone,
A hundred different houses but I'm still alone.
Iron in the water, iron in the soul,
Trying to find a center that I couldn't control.
Never made the trouble, just stood in the way,
Of a storm that was brewing every single day.
But my history is just the soil where I grew,
Not the shape of the mountain or the morning dew.
I'm built from the wreckage but I ain't the crash,
Not the ghost in the machine, not the weight of the ash.
I choose the direction, I pick up the line,
The past is a debt, but the future is mine.
There's a hate that can eat you, turn the blood into lead,
Feed the ghosts and the voices that live in your head.
I was aggressive and broken, a ninth-grade fire,
Burning down the bridge and the telegraph wire.
But survival ain't luck, it's a hammer in the hand,
Building something solid on a shifting sand.
I was what I did, but I'm not what they made,
I'm the sunlight walking through the middle of the shade.
But my history is just the soil where I grew,
Not the shape of the mountain or the morning dew.
I'm built from the wreckage but I ain't the crash,
Not the ghost in the machine, not the weight of the ash.
I choose the direction, I pick up the line,
The past is a debt, but the future is mine.
I survived what they said I wouldn't,
I did what they swore that I couldn't.
The law saw a number, I saw a soul,
Taking back the pieces, making them whole.
The past is a debt, but the future is mine.
Mmm-hmm, mmm-mmm.
