[VERSE 1] I learned a house is more than walls when the world outside won’t hold. It’s a cup beside the sink, a blanket when the night turns cold. It’s knowing where the good plates are, who takes sugar, who takes tea, which dog is waiting by the doorway, which plant needs another drink. Balcony mornings. Green rail. City hall across the street. Small things don’t look like history until they are the things you keep. [CHORUS] Make a place at the table. Make a little room. Life doesn’t have to be perfect to make a place for you. Put the ordinary back together: food, work, rest, repair. Sometimes love is simply noticing what needs to be there. [VERSE 2] I learned money turns decisions into strategy and time. Freedom isn’t luxury when every dollar draws a line. Giggin in the hustle basket, patchwork keeping something moving. Carrying systems no one noticed, making order out of proving. Hotel rooms. Hospitality. Administration. Human need. The work beneath the title is the work that makes things breathe. [VERSE 3] I learned to read a room before I learned to name myself. Different wiring. Sensitive witness. A kid who noticed everybody else. Queer before the language fit. Creative before permission. Reading weather in a face before I understood my own condition. And love? I give it depth and details. What I need is consistency. Because words can say one thing while reality says three. [BRIDGE] There are crossroads with no money, buses carrying everything you own, shame beside relief, reunion waiting at the other end. There are places called home because someone kept returning. There are people who misunderstand intensity and call it instability. But complexity isn’t confusion. Sometimes the room is simply larger than the people describing it. [CHORUS] Make a place at the table. Put the kettle on. Build a rhythm sturdy enough to carry somebody home. Care is not a decoration. Care is what we do. A life becomes inhabitable when there’s somewhere left for you. [OUTRO] Tomorrow has work in it. Tonight has rest. Set the table anyway.
