Intro
Chain-link gate, brass scale bolted to the frame
Board behind the counter, holds every kind of name
Not letters, not numbers — marks a hand can trust
Grandfather's chalk is gone but the wood still holds the dust
Verse
Grandfather ran the scale behind the chain-link since forty-nine
Weighed the copper by the pound, weighed the sorrow by the sign
Every family brought a bag of pipe torn out a wall
Every winter took a name, every name he'd chalk and stall
Kept a board of hash marks, symbols only kin could read
Half a moon for a widow, a triangle for a thief
Not to shame him, just to track him, see if he'd come back
Some men vanished with the frost, some men earned a second act
He told me weight's the only language don't nobody fake
Told me every rune's a witness to the choice a man could make
Stack the brass, sort the steel, let the copper shine like teeth
Man who brings you nothing golden still deserves the truth beneath
I was seven holding chalk, tracing marks I don't own
Learned the language of the hungry 'fore I learned to read a phone
By the barrel fire at midnight watched him write another name
Said the ledger outlives money, said the mark's the only claim
Chorus
Runes on the ledger, every notch a name that stayed
Scale don't lie, the weight decides who made it out the gate
I keep the count in chalk so the frost don't take the truth
Runes on the ledger, that's the only proof
Verse
Now the yard's mine, chain-link rusted but the gate still swings
Condos climbing where the smelter used to cough its rings
Kids bring extension cords, copper stripped from empty homes
Same hunger, different decade, still it's weight against the bone
I don't judge the bag, I judge the hands that carried it
Track marks on a forearm don't erase the arithmetic
Wrote a rune last Tuesday for a woman shook like leaves
Gave her full price knowing half of it was borrowed from the streets
Momma used to say the scale's the closest thing to fair
