[INTRO — instrumental, soul loop crackle, soft keys] [VERSE 1 — deep contemplative voice, slow] Her handwriting's going at the corners now (yeah) Ink like veins, little stars where she'd double down On the salt — tin box from the A&P Forty years of dinners written small enough to be Private — I read 'em like letters she never sent Chicken soup with a note that just says "when he's spent" Cardiac or heartbreak, Mama, which is it for Smudge says she cried once over card number four Or the soup did — either way it's in the pot Two cups of something, a handful of whatnot Measurements like weather — a pinch, a while, a bit I'm forty-five and learning how her hands did it [VERSE 2 — voice drops lower, steady] First try was a crime, I don't wanna discuss Salt like the ocean, noodles turned to dust Called my sister laughing, she said throw it out Then she drove an hour just to boss around my house That's the thing about the box — it ain't instructions It's a number you can call without induction It's her hands in the steam when the windows fog It's the ladle doing circles like a dialogue Second try was closer, third one made me sit Down at the table like a kid who admits Something — I don't know — that she knew it all along That a man can be fed by a bowl and a song [HOOK — tender half-sung] Recipe box, recipe box Every card a little clock Set to dinner, set to six Set to every kid she fixed With a bowl and a sit-down-talk (recipe box) [BRIDGE — keys swell, voice opens up] So I bought a tin box, started writing mine Little stars where my daughter likes the brine Double on the salt — someday she'll read my hand And cry in a kitchen she thinks I won't understand (recipe box) [HOOK — tender half-sung, full swell] Recipe box, recipe box Every card a little clock Set to dinner, set to six Set to every kid she fixed With a bowl and a sit-down-talk (recipe box) [OUTRO — soul loop rides out, soft] A pinch, a while, a bit I'm getting better at it (recipe box)
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