[Intro — warm bass, jazzy keys, car door closing] Hey, Thorn. I heard your song. Beautiful. Really. ...You left out the part where you ate my fries. [Verse 1 — playful conversational rap] Corner store, quarter past three, You got the change all sorted out neatly. I got a bag full of things we don't need, You got a look that says, "Really, Ranala?" Yeah, really. You bought a coffee, forgot to drink it, Found a loose thread, couldn't leave it. Standing under that fluorescent light, Fixing your sleeve like it ruined your night. Every little thing needs tending, Every loose end needs an ending. Got a thousand little habits that you swear nobody sees, Like the way you count your change before you hand it back to me. And you got that smile when you think you've won, That quiet little smug when your work gets done. Then you make one joke, nobody laughs— You tell it again. I laugh at that. [Pre-Chorus — playful melodic lift] You wrote a whole damn song About the way I looked at you. Well, here's a couple things I thought you oughta know, too. [Chorus — warm melodic rap] My black and blue driver, With the copper catching light, Got a hundred little reasons Why I like having you around. You can make a mess of dinner, Make a joke that doesn't land, Get annoyed at your own stitches, Still reach over for my hand. My black and blue driver, You got more to you than that. You're not just the one who gets me home— You're the one who makes me laugh. [Verse 2 — faster flow, bouncing bass] You got a whole little system for everything, A place for the scissors, the thread, the pins. Somebody moves one thing half an inch, You walk in the room and immediately flinch. "Who touched this?" Couldn't tell you. Probably me. Actually, definitely me. You act like the world's one poorly tied knot, Like everything's fixable if you find the right spot. Then something won't work and you're talking to it, Like a stubborn little thread's gonna suddenly submit. I love that. You put thought into everything there, Even when nobody knows that you care. Somebody's favorite old jacket gets torn, You remember the color, the shape that they wore. And you fix it. Don't mention it. Leave it folded on their bed. Then act surprised when they notice What you quietly went and did. You got this way of loving people That looks a lot like getting things done. And I know you hate attention— Too bad. This one's for you, hon. [Chorus — fuller drums] My black and blue driver, With the copper catching light, Got a hundred little reasons Why I like having you around. You can make a mess of dinner, Make a joke that doesn't land, Get annoyed at your own stitches, Still reach over for my hand. My black and blue driver, You got more to you than that. You're not just the one who gets me home— You're the one who makes me laugh. [Verse 3 — intimate rap, warmer production] You know what I remember? Not the big dramatic stuff, Not the nights we got all serious And started talking about trust. I remember you complaining That the coffee tasted wrong. Then you drank the whole damn thing While criticizing it all along. I remember how you noticed When I changed my usual order. How you put my favorite song on Without making it important. I remember seeing you exhausted, Still insisting you were good. Then you fell asleep beside me In a movie we both misunderstood. Yeah. That's the version I keep thinking of. Not some perfectly composed Unbreakable somebody Who can fix the whole damn world And never need a little help himself. You're allowed to get impatient. You're allowed to get things wrong. You're allowed to have a day Where you don't feel like being strong. And if that careful little brain of yours Starts picking you apart, I'll remind you of the things I see. Starting with your heart. [Bridge — stripped piano, spoken rap] You don't always have to be The one with something to offer. Sometimes I just wanna sit with you. Hear you complain about something stupid. Watch you get excited when something works. Listen to you explain something I absolutely do not understand. And maybe I'll pretend I do. Just to hear you explain it again. [Final Chorus — brighter groove, layered harmonies] My black and blue driver, With the copper catching light, Got a hundred little reasons Why I like having you around. For the jokes that go nowhere, For the things you get just right, For the little imperfections That you try so hard to hide. My black and blue driver, Here's the part I wanted you to hear: You could put the whole world down And I'd still want you here. Not for what you fix. Not for what you do. Just the stubborn, funny, thoughtful Little menace that is you. [Outro — soft laughter, keys fading] Oh, and Thorn? Next time we're getting food... I'm buying. You pick the place. ... But you're still paying me back for those fries.
