Nothing Free (Sterzia)

[Intro, low, tired, unsmiling] You want remedy? You pay. You want pity? Go elsewhere. [Verse 1, rough, steady] I was road and rain and broken wheel, Mud on skirt and hand on steel, Selling roots and bitter leaf, Half to hunger, half to grief. Long road, bad men, bad night, Cold wind cut like little knife, I learned early, very fast, Soft heart never, never lasts. Then one day the road took due, Wood and iron, blood came through, Lost one leg but not my name, Still I stood up all the same. [Pre-Chorus, rising, hard] Life is not fair. Life is not kind. It takes what it wants And leaves dust behind. So you learn one thing Or you die like fool— Keep your hands steady, Make pain into tool. [Chorus, big, harsh, singable] Nothing free, nothing soft, You want relief? Then pay the cost. I sell the cure, I bind the bone, I built this place with blood and stone. No sweet lie, no mercy speech, Only what these hard hands reach, And if I help you stand today, You remember what you owe—and pay. [Verse 2, more personal, bitter] Six Towers stink of smoke and sin, But still the sick keep crawling in, Bruised-up boys and fevered girls, Men with shaking little worlds. I know the look, I know the smell, Who needs real help, who buys to sell, Who tells truth and who tells tale, Who will faint and who turns pale. They call me hard. Good. Let them call. Hard keeps bottle off the floor. Hard keeps ledgers square and clean. Hard keeps weak ones in between. [Pre-Chorus, lower, intense] You say I’m cold. Maybe it’s so. But cold hand steady Makes the needle go. And warm words never Closed a wound for me— Thread did. Pressure did. Tea and honesty. [Chorus, stronger] Nothing free, nothing soft, You want relief? Then pay the cost. I sell the cure, I bind the bone, I built this place with blood and stone. No sweet lie, no saintly grace, Only work in this hard place, And if I help you through the night, You pay fair coin and step out right. [Bridge, stripped back, vulnerable but controlled] Then came little one... ten years old, Street dirt skin and winter cold, All sharp eyes and hungry grin, Half wild cat, all stubborn chin. I said, “Work.” She said, “I can.” Small quick hands, much smarter than Most grown men who crossed my door— Now she sweeps, she sells, she knows the score. No romance. No soft pretty word. Just soup, a bed, “Do as you’re told.” But years go by, and then one day You hear her laugh and look away. [Breakdown, almost spoken, thick accent, intimate] She is not soft. Good. I did not raise softness. I raise spine. I raise sharp eye. I raise girl who knows How to count coin, Read people, And land proper right hook If some fool gets handsy. You understand? That is love where I come from. [Verse 3, slow burn, proud] She plays the smile, I play the knife, Nice seller, hard seller—same life, She brings them in, I name the fee, Together we make remedy. And when the day is long and mean, And all the floor is scrubbed back clean, I watch her write, I hear her move, And that is all I need to prove. I did not lose and stay down low. I lost, then built what I could grow. Not heaven. Not peace. Not anything grand. Just one good shop and one safe hand. [Final Chorus, huge, anthemic] Nothing free, nothing soft, You want relief? Then pay the cost. I sell the cure, I keep the light, I keep this place alive at night. No romance, no golden dream, Only work and kettle steam, But for my girl and honest trade, I stand, I sell, I do not fade. [Outro, low, steady, proud] Wood leg. Sharp cane. Hot tea. Clean shelf. Hard life. Good work. Girl under my roof. For some people That is enough. For me— That is everything.