07 - Carry the Tray (BurgerPunk)

[Verse 1] Skitch tied his apron with a strip of black cord Grease in the seams, dishwater hands, eyes bored Said, “Kid, float smooth. Don’t let the tray shake. These people smell nerves like dogs smell steak.” I was all elbows in a rental vest Coal-bin thin, bad shoes, cheap thread pressed We came from the service tunnels under the hall Where the pipes cough rust and the night drips wall Up top was velvet, glass, and chrome A chandelier bright as a captured dome Rich men drifting in a climate glow Buying tomorrow in a voice kept low Skitch said, “Don’t stare. Just learn the breed. They toast every famine they’re paid to feed. They don’t eat like us. They dine on delay. They buy whole streets, then salt the way.” [Hook] Carry the tray Keep your face hollow Smile if they pay Bow if they swallow Skitch at the pass Flat calm in the heat “We serve the feast While they auction the street.” [Verse 2] I followed him out through the polished light With smoked black cod and synthetic white Past council teeth and investor skin Past a woman wearing pearls like a row of pins Then I heard through the screen in a softened tone: “Choke the grid first, then acquire the zone.” Another one laughed, said, “Move them north. Fear cuts faster than market force.” I missed some words, but the shape stayed clear Like hearing the train before tracks appear My hands went weak. Skitch took the load. Never spilled once. Never broke his mode. Said, “Easy, kid. This is how they sup. One hand breaks down, one hand buys up. You want the secret? It’s not their plan. It’s that nobody here still calls them damned.” [Hook] Carry the tray Keep your face hollow Smile if they pay Bow if they swallow Skitch at the pass Flat calm in the heat “We serve the feast While they auction the street.” [Bridge] Back by the freezer I asked, “Why stay?” Skitch scraped burnt sugar and looked away Said, “Because rent bites harder than pride. Because truth don’t cook. Because rats survive. But learn the room. Learn what power hides. Gold on the cuff, sewage in the eyes.” Then he slid fresh plates through the red-lit steam Like a man patching holes in a sinking dream [Final Hook] Carry the tray Keep your hands steady They market the grave Then call the city ready Skitch in the glare Smoke, steel, and heat “We feed them well While they eat the street.” Carry the tray Don’t flinch, don’t preach They own the towers But not what they teach Skitch gave a nod Thin, tired, discreet “We live in the walls Where their clean lights leak.”