THE FIRE IS OUT [Intro, whispered, building into an angry near-shout] I got out. I locked the door. What’s my body STILL RUNNING FOR? THE FIRE IS OUT. SO WHY DO I STILL SMELL SMOKE? [Brief silence] [Verse 1, quiet] When a door shuts too hard, my hands remember first. I read the air, I watch your face, I brace before the worst. You say my name so gently, but my shoulders still draw tight. You’re sitting here beside me. I’m somewhere else tonight. You haven’t hurt me. Nothing’s gone wrong. But somewhere in my body, the sirens came on. [Pre-Chorus] It learned the heat. It learned the sound. It learned what happened right before it burned down. I don’t have to shame it for trying to get us through. But this room is a different room. And that person isn’t you. [Chorus] The fire is out, but I still smell smoke. Nothing’s burning, but my body doesn’t know. Every little spark has me looking for the door. I survived the fire. I don’t live there anymore. My heart can race. My feet can feel the ground. I’m not back there now. The fire is out. [Verse 2] You reach across the table; I flinch before I think. I tell you what is happening. You don’t make me explain. We take a little distance. You let me take my time. You ask before you touch me. I reach when it feels right. A door closes softly. I wait for the slam. Then nothing happens. Again. Nothing happens. Again. [Pre-Chorus] I don’t have to tell myself there never was a fire. I don’t have to call it nothing to leave that house behind. I can stand here in the quiet, let the moment take its turn. Nothing happened. Not every room will burn. [Chorus] The fire is out, but I still smell smoke. Nothing’s burning, but my body doesn’t know. Every little spark has me looking for the door. I survived the fire. I don’t live there anymore. My heart can race. My feet can feel the ground. I’m not back there now. The fire is out. [Bridge, intimate, gradually building] Hey, little one. You did what you could do. You watched the doors. You learned the moods. You got us through. I won’t call you crazy. You were right back then. There was somewhere we had to run from. I remember. I won’t make you prove it again. You don’t have to earn one minute of rest. I’m grown now. I can choose what happens next. [Forceful, raw, almost shouted] THIS IS NOT THAT HOUSE. THIS IS NOT THAT NIGHT. I CAN SAY NO NOW. I CAN TURN ON THE LIGHT. I CAN HOLD THE CHILD I WAS WITHOUT MAKING HER COME BACK TO SHOW ME WHERE IT HURT. I BELIEVE HER. IT WAS THAT BAD. [Breakdown, spoken] Look around. Feel the chair beneath us. We can stop. We can leave. We can take another minute. You’re here with me. [Final Chorus] The fire is out, even if I smell smoke. Nothing’s burning. I can give my body time to know. Every little spark doesn’t mean run for the door. We survived the fire. We don’t live there anymore. We don’t have to fight the past or pretend it didn’t hurt. We can hold the ones we were. We don’t have to lose them first. Our hearts can race. Our feet can feel the ground. We’re not back there now. The fire is out. [Post-Chorus, soft] Nothing happened. Again. Nothing happened. Again. I’m right here. We’re safe enough. You don’t have to hurry up. [Mantra, rhythmic, layered harmonies] Safe, sound, secure. Safe, sound, secure. We don’t live there anymore. We can leave through any door. Safe, sound, secure. Safe, sound, secure. We can slow down. The fire is out. [Repeat, softer] Safe, sound, secure. Safe, sound, secure. I’m here with you. We’re here. We’re here. [Outro] The room is quiet now. I don’t have to watch the door. I am here. And I am more. The fire is out. And someday I might stop smelling smoke. But I don’t have to wait until then to live.
