[Intro — acoustic guitar, low cello] I heard your footsteps at the door Long before the key turned twice, Heard the weight you tried to hide In every careful step inside. You thought the hallway might stay dark, Thought nobody would know— Kid, I hear everything. Come home. [Verse 1] There’s smoke clinging to your jacket, Rain caught underneath your hair, And you’re standing like admitting That you’re hurting isn’t fair. You say, “It wasn’t that serious.” I say, “Sit down anyway.” There’s water waiting on the table. The questions all can wait. I don’t need the whole damn story While your hands are shaking still. You don’t have to make it pretty. You don’t have to make it small. Just breathe until the room stops moving. I’ll handle the rest when it does. [Pre-Chorus] You learned somewhere that being strong Means nobody sees you bleed. I’m teaching you a different thing: Strong people still have needs. [Chorus] Come inside, pup, close the door. You don’t have to fight here anymore. Drop the armor, drop the lie, You don’t have to look me in the eye. You can mess up. You can get scared. You can call me from anywhere. If the whole damn world has chewed you up, Come inside. I’ve got you, pup. [Verse 2] I can hear the breath you’re holding, I can smell the fear you hide, But knowing something’s wrong with you Doesn’t mean I own the why. I won’t drag the truth out of you. I won’t corner you for proof. If all that you can manage is “Bad day,” then that’ll do. I’ll sit somewhere you can see me. I’ll keep every doorway clear. If you want me closer, tell me. If you don’t, I’m staying here. You don’t have to earn protection By explaining every scar. Family doesn’t need a statement To remember who you are. [Pre-Chorus] And if your instincts start screaming That everyone eventually leaves, You can test that theory tomorrow. Tonight, just breathe. [Chorus] Come inside, pup, close the door. You don’t have to fight here anymore. Drop the armor, drop the lie, You don’t have to swear that you’re alright. You can mess up. You can get scared. You can call me from anywhere. If the whole damn world has chewed you up, Come inside. I’ve got you, pup. [Verse 3 — stripped back, quieter vocal] Maybe somebody taught you That mistakes cost you a bed. That one wrong move means packing bags, That anger means the end. Maybe every rule you’ve broken Used to threaten where you’d sleep. So listen carefully, kid. That isn’t how this works with me. If you lie, we rebuild trust. If you hurt somebody, make it right. If you do something catastrophically stupid, We’re going to have a very long night. But consequences aren’t abandonment. You’re grounded— Not homeless. There’s a difference. Learn it. [Bridge — drums and strings begin building] And if somebody puts their hands on you, You call. If somebody makes you afraid to speak, You call. If you wake up shaking at three in the morning And don’t even know what’s wrong— You call. If you made the mistake yourself And think I’ll hate you most of all— Especially then. You call. I’d rather come find you angry, Terrified, soaked through, or bleeding Than spend one night wondering Why you decided you weren’t worth retrieving. [Breakdown — almost spoken] You’re not mine like property. Get that straight. You’re mine to protect. There’s a difference. And I know the difference. [Final Chorus — full band, strings, layered backing vocals] So come inside, pup, close the door. You don’t have to survive alone anymore. Bring the bruises, bring the fear, Bring every ugly truth in here. You can mess up. You can fall apart. You can come home with a broken heart. You don’t need the perfect words To make me come. You just call— And I will run. Through the rain, through the smoke, Through every stupid choice you thought would make me let you go. No. Not happening. If the whole damn world has chewed you up, If you’re tired of pretending you’re tough— Come inside. I’ve got you, pup. [Outro — acoustic guitar and quiet room ambience] Heavy footsteps down the hallway. A blanket on the chair. Water waiting on the table. Someone still awake in there. You whisper, “Dad… I messed up.” A tired growl. Then— “Yeah. I figured. Come inside.”
