[intro, moody FX over distant guitar] Mmm-hmm… it’s always big, yeah… She limps through the morning, cursed by the chair, Mouth full of thunder, shoulder don’t care… It’s the big things, like screaming fights, when you throw my phone straight outta sight, It’s the slammed doors, the dramatic flair, like you said, “I’m moving out!” mid-air. [pre-chorus] Oh, it ain’t the socks left on the floor, it’s the time you keyed my car, for sure. Not your tone, not your sighs, but when you burned my fries… [hook 1] Sciatica forever, everything hurts, Can’t find the remote, God made her cursed. It’s the big things that tear us apart, like threatening to steal my dog and heart. It’s not the moods or silent stings, nah, babe, it’s the big things. [verse – call & response] Toes scream in silence, elbow’s gone rogue, Finger’s got secrets that nobody knows… It’s the texts in ALL CAPS late at night, or the “I’m fine”s that start a fight. You once said, “We need to talk,” then you broke up mid grocery walk. [pre-chorus – stacked] No, it’s not that you watch bad shows, it’s the time you set my plants in rows and “forgot” to water them to death— yeah, I wept and held my breath. Sciatica forever, soup’s always cold, IBT tremors, she’s thirty years old… [bridge – darker, building] Static in the kitchen, hissing in her spine, Tooth talks in riddles every goddamn time. You say I overreact, you say I’m too loud, but who wears a veil in a coffee crowd? You “accidentally” liked my boss’s pic— girl, that’s not subtle, that’s just sick. [drop / chant] Sciatica forever, everything hurts, World’s out to bruise, God made her cursed. It’s the big things, like wedding RSVPs where you added four exes—what the heck, Denise? It’s not your snore or weird mood swings, it’s still the big things. [verse – high energy] Whines like a kettle, sleep’s a cruel joke, Knees write novellas in bone and in smoke. You and me, we survive these scenes, screaming in IKEA aisle five, in-between. [final chorus – intertwined] Sciatica forever, world’s out to bruise, Can’t open a pickle, can’t tie her shoes. It’s the big things that we survive, like screaming in IKEA aisle five. It’s not just quirks or wedding rings— we thrive on big, chaotic things. [outro – half-time] She’ll outlive us all, complaining the whole way, Sciatica forever, ’til Judgment Day… Yeah… the big things… You and me… demolition kings… Sciatica forever… boom.
