Honey in the Bones (Lyrical)

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(intro)
After the shatter, listen—
the room is still here.
Your ribs are still a house.
Your breath is still a river with a name.
And somewhere in the wreckage,
something sweet survived.

(verse 1)
I found laughter hiding under grief,
like a child under a tablecloth,
knees tucked up, eyes bright,
waiting for someone to stop taking life so personally.
I found tenderness in the ruins,
not naïve—
seasoned.
A soft animal intelligence
that knows how to stay open
without becoming food.

(pre-chorus)
Because joy isn’t denial.
Joy is retrieval.
A way of bringing the soul back
from wherever it fled.

(chorus)
Put honey in the bones.
Put music in the marrow.
Put sunlight on the parts of me
that learned to live in shadow.
I don’t need to be perfect—
I need to be whole.
So I dance my way home.
I dance my way home.

(verse 2)
There are bees in my bloodstream,
building gold architecture
where panic used to live.
There are old stories in my joints,
unclenching,
changing their endings.
I stop treating my life like a problem to solve.
I start treating it like a song to embody—
sometimes off-key,
always sincere.

(pre-chorus)
And if I’m neurodivergent,
then let that be a form of divination:
attention as weather,
curiosity as compass,
hyperfocus as prayer.

(refrain)
I bless the mess.
I bless the ache.
I bless the wildness
I used to mistake for mistake.

(bridge)
(spoken, smiling through tears)
You can keep your cold enlightenment.
I want the warm kind—
the kind that forgives the body for being a body,
the kind that lets desire be honest,
the kind that makes room for grief
without making a shrine to it.
I want the kind of love
that can hold a knife and a flower
in the same hand
and not tremble.

(outro)
(hummed harmonies, soft percussion fading)
If light eats light—
let it eat what’s false.
Leave what’s tender.
Leave what’s true.
(whisper)
Leave me laughing.

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(intro) After the shatter, listen— the room is still here. Your ribs are still a house. Your breath is still a river with a name. And somewhere in the wreckage, something sweet survived. (verse 1) I found laughter hiding under grief, like a child under a tablecloth, knees tucked up, eyes bright, waiting for someone to stop taking life so personally. I found tenderness in the ruins, not naïve— seasoned. A soft animal intelligence that knows how to stay open without becoming food. (pre-chorus) Because joy isn’t denial. Joy is retrieval. A way of bringing the soul back from wherever it fled. (chorus) Put honey in the bones. Put music in the marrow. Put sunlight on the parts of me that learned to live in shadow. I don’t need to be perfect— I need to be whole. So I dance my way home. I dance my way home. (verse 2) There are bees in my bloodstream, building gold architecture where panic used to live. There are old stories in my joints, unclenching, changing their endings. I stop treating my life like a problem to solve. I start treating it like a song to embody— sometimes off-key, always sincere. (pre-chorus) And if I’m neurodivergent, then let that be a form of divination: attention as weather, curiosity as compass, hyperfocus as prayer. (refrain) I bless the mess. I bless the ache. I bless the wildness I used to mistake for mistake. (bridge) (spoken, smiling through tears) You can keep your cold enlightenment. I want the warm kind— the kind that forgives the body for being a body, the kind that lets desire be honest, the kind that makes room for grief without making a shrine to it. I want the kind of love that can hold a knife and a flower in the same hand and not tremble. (chorus) Put honey in the bones. Put music in the marrow. Put sunlight on the parts of me that learned to live in shadow. I don’t need to be perfect— I need to be whole. So I dance my way home. I dance my way home. (outro) (hummed harmonies, soft percussion fading) If light eats light— let it eat what’s false. Leave what’s tender. Leave what’s true. (whisper) Leave me laughing.

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