She Did Her Eyeliner In The Dark

mezzo alto female vocals, Genres: cinematic confessional rap, ritual dubstep, dark trip-hop, gothic soul, Gothic blues Mood: reverent, haunted, childlike but grown Vocals: Mezzo-alto female vocals, spiraled soft rap, emotional spoken word, layered chant harmonies Key Instruments: ambient car textures, lo-fi piano, cigarette ember crackles, slow pulsing bass, vocal chops, vanity mirror FX shimmer

[Verse 1 – spiraled rap, soft and tense]    
She plucked her brows in the rearview mirror  
  
Lip lined perfect,  
voice unclear  
  
Said “don’t trust no man,”   
while one sat near.
  
Told me to duck if headlights appear.
  
And I -
  
I was five with a code to survive    
Hide in the floorboards once we arrive -  
She'd pull up to places that gave me dread,  
Where the eyes of the people there looked dead,  
She Said “stay down, baby” -   
  
"I did what she said."  
  
She said "now make sure you don't let anyone in  
Doesn't matter if it's aunt dottie, aunt re, or uncle Clint,  
Stay hidden, stay quiet, stay out of sight"

And sometimes ..

"I'd be waiting there the rest of the night."
  
(...)

[Break]
My mama wore fear like a second skin  
  
Slick gloss, sharp tongue, heroin thin.  
  
Watched her hand off cash like a folded prayer    
While I held my breath in the backseat air.

[Bass drop]  
(...)  
  
[Hook – layered now, chant-like]    
she did her eyeliner in the dark   
(Mirror wide)
mirror wide, vanity lit like a spark    
she said “don’t breathe. don’t move. don’t talk.”    
so I learned how to pray
with the light turned off

So I learned how to pray
(With the light turned off)
  
(...)  
  
[Verse 2 – spoken with syncopation, child’s cadence grown hollow]    
She was so beautiful.    
Movie star kind.  
Big hair, long dress - she shined in my eyes -
Like the women on church fans or neon signs,  
  
But the shadow moved different when she turned around    
One second mama    
Next second -  
  
down.  
  
There was always a man, but never a name    
Just shadows she kissed to forget the shame  
Always a silence that carried a flame  
I learned her moods like a deadly game  
And me in the corner, watching it all    
Learning to vanish before I could crawl  
  
She was God and the Devil in a Marlboro breath    
Made a kingdom from a mattress and near-death    
Saved my stepdad like a sainted ghost    
But saved herself last

And still loved the most.
  
(...)  
  
[Bass drop]  
(...)

(With the light turned off)

(...)  
  
[Chorus – belted and broken, echoing]    
I loved my mother more than the world -  
After all  
I was just her little girl  
  
I gave her my silence like it was gold    
She gave me her fear    
And called it home    
  
(...)  
  
[Verse 3 – vulnerable rap, adult voice speaking back]    
She kept my card in the trunk, I think  
Folded like grief beneath lipstick and ink  
I wrote it in crayon, my heart on my sleeve -
“Even though you like your friends more than me…”  
I still hoped she’d frame it, still hoped she’d see me.
  
[Hook]
She got clean. She got strong. She got old.  
Started sleeping more, and the stories got cold.  
 She died with a half-packed bag under her bed    
Ash in the lungs, half-truths in her head    
  
She did better.   
  
That’s real.   
  
That’s true.  
  
I see her now in the mirror too    
When I line my eyes and freeze my breath    
I hear her say: “don’t flinch from death”  
 
(...)

(With the light turned off)

(...)

[Bridge – whispered, bare spiral]    
They say kids forget -
But I never did.  
The smell of that car.  
The prayers I hid.  
It wasn’t her fault.  
But it wasn’t a game.  
She said “don’t open the door.”  
So I learned to freeze like the stillness
had stitched in my name.
To wait without asking.  
To listen through the keys.  
To do everything I could do
To shrink me. 
And I guess I never really 
un-learned that part -
Still flinch at the knock,
 still fold at the start.

(...)  
  
[Hook – final form, ethereal chant with harmonies]    
she did her eyeliner in the dark    
mirror wide, vanity lit like a spark    
she said “don’t breathe. don’t move. don’t talk.”    
so I learned how to pray    
with the light turned off  
  
(...)  
  
[Outro – whisper]    
Even God needs a mother.    
Even monsters were daughters.

Even God needs a mother.    
Even monsters were daughters.

I was both. 
I was hers. 
I was gone.

"I was here."

(...)

(With the light turned off)
(With the light turned off)

4442/7500

[Hook – looped, hushed then rising] she did her eyeliner in the dark mirror wide, vanity lit like a spark she said “don’t breathe. don’t move. don’t talk.” so I learned how to pray with the light turned off [Bass drop] (...) (...) [Verse 1 – spiraled rap, soft and tense] She plucked her brows in the rearview mirror Lip lined perfect, voice unclear Said “don’t trust no man,” while one sat near. Told me to duck if headlights appear. And I - I was five with a code to survive Hide in the floorboards once we arrive - She'd pull up to places that gave me dread, Where the eyes of the people there looked dead, She Said “stay down, baby” - "I did what she said." She said "now make sure you don't let anyone in Doesn't matter if it's aunt dottie, aunt re, or uncle Clint, Stay hidden, stay quiet, stay out of sight" And sometimes .. "I'd be waiting there the rest of the night." (...) [Break] My mama wore fear like a second skin Slick gloss, sharp tongue, heroin thin. Watched her hand off cash like a folded prayer While I held my breath in the backseat air. [Bass drop] (...) [Hook – layered now, chant-like] she did her eyeliner in the dark (Mirror wide) mirror wide, vanity lit like a spark she said “don’t breathe. don’t move. don’t talk.” so I learned how to pray with the light turned off So I learned how to pray (With the light turned off) (...) [Verse 2 – spoken with syncopation, child’s cadence grown hollow] She was so beautiful. Movie star kind. Big hair, long dress - she shined in my eyes - Like the women on church fans or neon signs, But the shadow moved different when she turned around One second mama Next second - down. There was always a man, but never a name Just shadows she kissed to forget the shame Always a silence that carried a flame I learned her moods like a deadly game And me in the corner, watching it all Learning to vanish before I could crawl She was God and the Devil in a Marlboro breath Made a kingdom from a mattress and near-death Saved my stepdad like a sainted ghost But saved herself last And still loved the most. (...) [Bass drop] (...) (With the light turned off) (With the light turned off) (...) [Chorus – belted and broken, echoing] I loved my mother more than the world - After all I was just her little girl I gave her my silence like it was gold She gave me her fear And called it home (...) [Verse 3 – vulnerable rap, adult voice speaking back] She kept my card in the trunk, I think Folded like grief beneath lipstick and ink I wrote it in crayon, my heart on my sleeve - “Even though you like your friends more than me…” I still hoped she’d frame it, still hoped she’d see me. [Hook] She got clean. She got strong. She got old. Started sleeping more, and the stories got cold. She died with a half-packed bag under her bed Ash in the lungs, half-truths in her head She did better. That’s real. That’s true. I see her now in the mirror too When I line my eyes and freeze my breath I hear her say: “don’t flinch from death” (...) (With the light turned off) (...) [Bridge – whispered, bare spiral] They say kids forget - But I never did. The smell of that car. The prayers I hid. It wasn’t her fault. But it wasn’t a game. She said “don’t open the door.” So I learned to freeze like the stillness had stitched in my name. To wait without asking. To listen through the keys. To do everything I could do To shrink me. And I guess I never really un-learned that part - Still flinch at the knock, still fold at the start. (...) [Hook – final form, ethereal chant with harmonies] she did her eyeliner in the dark mirror wide, vanity lit like a spark she said “don’t breathe. don’t move. don’t talk.” so I learned how to pray with the light turned off (...) [Outro – whisper] Even God needs a mother. Even monsters were daughters. Even God needs a mother. Even monsters were daughters. Even God needs a mother. Even monsters were daughters. I was both. I was hers. I was gone. "I was here." (...) (With the light turned off) (With the light turned off)

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