[Verse 1 - deep bass and dry drums settle into a steady groove; vocal is conversational, lightly amused at herself rather than openly sad] I’ll eat when everybody’s finished. I’ll rest when everything is done. I’ll answer one more message, handle one more thing for someone. If you ask me what I need, I make a joke and change the subject. There is always something more important, so mine can wait a little longer. I keep saying, “Later’s fine.” Like later is a place I’ll find. [Chorus - rhythmic piano becomes more prominent; lead vocal opens melodically while staying controlled] Everyone first, me eventually. After the crisis, after they leave. After I’ve given whatever they need, maybe eventually there’ll be something left for me. I keep moving my own name to the bottom of the page. Everyone first. Me, some other day. [Verse 2 - groove becomes slightly more active; vocal gains warmth and frustration] I know everybody’s favorite order, remember what they said last week. I notice when somebody’s quieter, when they haven’t had enough to eat. But I can miss my own exhaustion until my body makes it loud. Tell myself I’m being dramatic, then wonder why I’m worn out. I’m generous with everybody else. With me, I negotiate. Five more minutes. One more favor. I can wait. I always wait. [Post-Chorus - percussion strips to bass, snaps, and rhythmic keys; lyrical responses appear behind the lead using exact written words] After the dishes. After the call. After I make sure everybody’s alright. After tomorrow. After next week. Funny how “eventually” never gets to me. [Bridge - live drums soften while piano keeps moving; vocal loses the humor and becomes direct] Maybe my needs didn’t disappear just because I learned to hide them well. Maybe being the one who manages doesn’t mean I never need help. I don’t have to reach the breaking point before I’m allowed to stop. I don’t have to give away everything and call whatever remains enough. I keep waiting for permission. Maybe no one knew I thought I needed it. [Refrain - bass deepens and the rhythm becomes firmer; vocal is calmer and more certain, not louder] Everyone first. I know that rhythm. I could sing it in my sleep. But maybe I belong somewhere inside the list of people I should keep. [Final Chorus - full organic groove returns; vocal is stronger and steadier with restrained written harmonies] Everyone first, me eventually. That’s how it’s been, but it doesn’t have to be. I can still love them, still give what I can, without disappearing every time somebody needs a hand. Maybe there doesn’t have to be something left for me. Maybe some of it was always supposed to stay with me. Not everyone first. Not me eventually. Maybe this time, somewhere in the middle, me too. [Coda - guitar and bass continue while drums fall away; vocal is warm, almost surprised by how simple it sounds] I’ll get to them. I always do. But when somebody asks what I need today, maybe I won’t say, “Later.” Maybe I’ll tell the truth.
0/500