The Light Stays On

FuFu — Solo [Intro — quiet acoustic guitar, the hum of a refrigerator, rain tapping against a window.] [FuFu, softly] So apparently... people leave porch lights on for you. Not cameras. Not spotlights. Just... lights. Huh. [Verse I — intimate, conversational] Got home later than I meant to, two-something, maybe three. Everybody else was sleeping, which still feels strange to me. No handlers at the doorway. Nobody checking where I'd been. Nobody asking what I broke or when I'd do it all again. Just one stupid little yellow light burning outside the door, and a note stuck to the refrigerator: "There's leftovers. Didn't know when you'd be home." [pause] Didn't know when I'd be home. And somehow... that was okay. [Verse II — warm bass enters] See, I've had lights follow me. Big ones. Bright ones. Hot enough to make you sweat. Lights that meant somebody was watching. Lights that meant— Don't fuck this up yet. Red light means camera. White means find your mark. Green means someone's making money. Everything goes dark when they're done with you. So I stood outside that doorway like an idiot in the rain, looking at a forty-watt bulb like I'd never seen a fucking light before. Maybe I hadn't. Not one like that. Not one that didn't want anything. Not one that just said— Someone figured you'd come back. [Verse III — drums brush in, restrained] I could've teleported inside. Could've crossed the room before the lock clicked twice. Could've been halfway around the planet. Apparently that's something I do now. But I used the key. [small laugh] Look at me. Domestic as fuck. Took my boots off by the stairs because somebody asked me not to track mud in. Ate cold leftovers from the container standing barefoot in the kitchen. No applause. No soundtrack. No dramatic revelation. Nobody fucking cared. [pause] God... it was nice. [Verse IV — melody begins opening up] There's a jacket on the banister. Three mugs beside the sink. Someone left their stupid headphones where they're absolutely gonna forget. There's a dent somebody put in the hallway drywall— Okay. That one might've been me. There's shampoo without my face on the bottle There's food I didn't buy. There's voices through the walls sometimes when I'm trying to sleep at night. And I'm starting to recognize them. Footsteps. Doors. Somebody laughing. Some asshole playing music way too fucking loud. [beat] Not you, Aleric. Probably. And none of it was written. Nobody built the set. Nobody told the extras where to stand before I stepped in. It's messy. It's annoying. It's ordinary. It's... [quietly] home-shaped. [Bridge — almost entirely acoustic] I don't know if I know what home means yet. That's too big a word. And I don't trust big words. They usually come with contracts. So I'm not calling it that. Not tonight. Tonight it's just... a place where my toothbrush lives. A place somebody complains when I finish the coffee. A place where there's a blanket I keep stealing from the couch. A place where somebody noticed I wasn't there yet— and didn't come looking. Didn't call. Didn't track me. Didn't demand an explanation. They just... [tiny pause] left the light on. [Verse V — full warm band, still intimate] Maybe that's what freedom looks like when nobody's blowing shit up. Not running. Not escaping. Not kicking down a door. Maybe sometimes freedom is knowing you could leave— and walking through the same front door you walked through yesterday. Because your stuff is there. Because dinner's cold. Because somebody bought that cereal you mentioned once. Because there's nowhere else you particularly need to be. I can run across an ocean. I can disappear between two heartbeats. I can stand beneath the northern lights before this song is done. But tonight? [key turns in lock] Nah. I'm good. [Outro — back to acoustic guitar and rain] [FuFu, quietly] The porch light's on. There's leftovers. My boots are by the stairs. Someone's gonna bitch that I ate the last piece. [small laugh] Let 'em. [door closes; rain becomes muffled] I think I'll stay here tonight. Not forever. Don't get fucking weird about it. Just... tonight. [pause] Hey. Leave the light on tomorrow? [final soft chord]