Streetlight Sermon

Verse 1

Concrete pulpit under a flickering bulb

Guðríðr's voice still burning through the murk

Corner store window like a chapel pane

She preached the lesson every block already knew in vain

Five years dead but she still standing tall

Same collar, different coat — I heard it all

Every kid that ever thought their future small

Wound up running from the same door as all

I saw it at eight when my father came home late

Saw how the whole street held its breath — then let it wait

Now I'm twenty-four and counting blocks like prayers

Same four words she said: 'Hold your own glare

Pre-Chorus

So who's the choir, who's the congregation?

Is it everyone that ever had to make a decision?

Or is it just me now — still deciding which one to choose?

I don't got the pulpit but I got my voice — that's proof

Chorus

Streetlight sermon under a cracked glass dome

Every window's a pew and every block's a home

Hold your own glare, keep your own flame

That's the only lesson left from Guðríðr's name

Verse 2

Barefoot summer learning how to read a sign

Watched the same five faces circle round again

Some of them became the ones that chased me down

Others stood between like armor all around

I thought it was a curse at first — a cycle I'd repeat

Then I realized it's history standing underneath my feet

Every hand that ever held a candle to the dark

Passed it through the fence, lit up someone else in the park

Now I'm the one passing what they passed to me

Not the same lesson, but it's Guðríðr's energy

Same collar, different blood — still burning just as bright

Standing tall under the flicker of the streetlight tonight

Bridge

I ain't a preacher, I'm just the proof that she was right

Every kid in this block got a reason to ignite

Don't need no pulpit, don't need a church or a name

Just hold your own glare and let the block go blind

Outro

Hold your own flare — keep it lit under what's left of her name

Streetlight still burning where Guðríðr once stood in flame