[Intro] “She walks in grace… how can it be?” “Must be a witch… or divinity…” [Church Bells chime] No tricks here, just discipline, dear. Let me testify... [Verse 1] I rise with the dawn, starch lace on my chest Say a prayer, light the lamp, buttoned up and blessed Boil the water, baking the bread, write six full letters Neighbors know I'm so good, must be a deal with the nether Hair pinned high like a crown so tight Never let a strand fall out in your sight Read Latin by nine, and Greek by thirteen My house, not democracy, I'm Ruling my scene... [Chorale and Lead- echo and reply] They say, They say, “Surely that’s not natural…” “Surely that’s not fate…” (It’s called effort, darling,) (God gives me strength!) [Verse 2] Satin and silk, but I scrub my floors Kiss my Bible ‘fore I walk out doors Psalms in my head, iron for a spine Say it’s witchcraft? (Nah—it's my Victorian grind) Had five siblings, helped raise three Taught a boy to read while I stitched up his knee Made dinner from scratch with a fire and coal And I did it all while poised, in control [Church Bells chime] “Is it true, is it right?” (She’s just that tight) “No one’s that good” (She grew up to fight) [Bridge] Crinoline heavy, steps still floatin’ Six layers deep and I’m not even gloatin’ Boil the linens, the lye makes 'em bright Time to for the milk cream so white A spare moments like heaven haven't had that since I was seven Send the cow back to the heather Hand-writing letters with ink an' feather No pain meds, no votes, no phones Try shinin’ silver with broken bones Birthing my babies without complaint Then sewing veils to bury a saint You cry from a tweet? I cry at a funeral A hymn on my lips, I sing like a cardinal Don’t need a hex, don’t need a spell— I do hard things, and I do 'em well [Verse 3 – Smooth and reflective] I ain't bitter, I ain't cold I just got truths too fine to fold Let 'em whisper, let 'em guess This grace you see? It’s not just how I dress It’s in the tea I pour, the words I choose The fact I rise when others still snooze I don’t need proof, I don’t need fame As long as God, knows my good name... I’m not a witch, I’m just well-trained (She’s just refined, not arcane) I walk through fire, with apron tied (Statistically speaking, that's probably how she'll die...) ... ... Rude... but true... [Outro] So if elegance frightens you—so be it. Grace that I have isn't a mistake, Because I'm committed. [Final Tag – Spoken, over soft choir fade] You call it magic. I call it Monday, And it’s barely noon.
