Runes Beneath the Concrete (versión 2)

Intro

Mama kept the receipts in a shoebox, dated every one

Said the numbers tell the story when the talking's done

Proof we were here, proof we paid, proof the light stayed on

Proof that nothing given free don't mean we weren't strong

Verse 1

Started at the laundry, folding other people's cloth

Steam rising off the press at five a.m., the cost

Sixty hours for a check that barely bent the rent

But she wrote it down, every dollar that she spent

Three kids needed shoes before the winter came

Layaway at Henderson's, signed under her name

Interest climbing, payments stretched across the months

She math'd it on the margins, made the numbers bunch

Hung the dresses from the line, watched them dry and catch the sun

Ironed shirts for office men who never knew the one

Who kept their collars perfect, kept her family fed

Calluses on her fingertips, gray threading through her head

The receipts were armor, proof against the doubt

Ledger of her labor, what surviving's all about

Chorus

She built the house in margins, brick by brick, dime by dime

Turned the nothing into something, made the ash into the climb

She built the house in margins, brick by brick, dime by dime

Made the ash into the climb

Verse 2

Box was getting heavy by the year I turned fifteen

Receipts from the market, the doctor, the machine

That fixed the washing when it broke, the roof when it began to leak

She'd point and say, "You see this? This is what you speak"

Not with words but with the proof that hunger gets delayed

By someone keeping count of every choice, every trade

I tried to tell her throw it out, that holding on to scraps

Was just a way of living small, of never closing gaps

She looked at me and said, "The day you think this don't mean nothing

Is the day you lose the thread of what we're building"

Now I got my own box started, folding in the dark

Every receipt a rune, every number is a mark

That says we were here, we didn't break, we didn't bend

We turned the margins into mansions in the end

Chorus

She built the house in margins, brick by brick, dime by dime

Turned the nothing into something, made the ash into the climb

She built the house in margins, brick by brick, dime by dime

Made the ash into the climb

Bridge

The shoebox sits on my shelf now, worn soft at the seams

Holds more than receipts, holds the weight of the dream

Every line is a prayer that somebody believed

That the small could become legend, that the taken could be freed

Outro

Mama, I'm still writing it down, still keeping score

Every margin that I master is a door

You opened with your hands, you opened with your faith

The receipts were never paper, they were names