Born under a roof that leaked thunder with a mother made of last-call rain his old man’s hand like a courthouse hammer coming down before he learned his name They dressed the damage up as duty put a shine on every bruise taught him silence like a hymn book till the silence split the truth He grew quiet as a matchbox kept his heat behind his tongue every hand that should have held him taught him where the fire was from There’s only so much darkness you can beat into a child before the quiet finds a color before the dark burns wild King of the small town fire no crown, no choir, no trial just a town sign burning like a prayer gone wild By morning he wore the thunder like a storm he couldn’t lose with last night still flashing through him he knew they would never choose Never choose the boy beneath it only trouble passing through saw the smoke before the burning saw the ash before the fuse He learned to burn inside his anger learned to live without a sound every mercy came up missing when the damage trickled down There’s only so much nowhere you can give a boy to stand before he makes a burning sunrise with a matchbook in his hand King of the small town fire no crown, no choir, no trial just a town sign burning like a prayer gone wild By the time he reached the welcome sign, he had nothing left to prove nothing left to bury down, nothing left to drag him through “WELCOME HOME” in peeling white, the lie still bright enough to laugh he struck the match and watched the town divide itself in half No house, no window, no one around just the sentence on the board just the word that kept pretending this was what a home was for One flicker, then another then the edges caught and ran and the night went bright around him like it finally gave a damn And for once he didn’t lower his eyes for once he didn’t make himself small for once the thing inside him was bright enough to answer them all King of the small town fire laughing in the emergency light all their little hallelujahs going orange in the night King of the small town fire no crown, no choir, no trial just a town sign burning like a prayer gone wild King of the small town fire standing where the lie came down not lost, not saved, not sorry just seen from every side of town Welcome home welcome home watch it go
