The Collector

I keep records. Not for mercy. Not for proof. Just to remember what people hand over then swear they never knew. You came with a reason dressed up like a virtue Said it wasn’t hunger, just a change in the weather One eye steady, one hand careful Like the right kind of lie could hold you together I saw the part you left out of the story Saw the mark where the meaning went bad You kept saying nothing had happened With the face of a man who knew that it had I don’t ask twice I don’t pull teeth People get honest when they want relief I don’t steal, I receive You gave me more than you meant to No one begs; they call it need Now I know what still owns you And I keep it I keep it (keep it—) I keep it (keep it—) The Collector. I keep the promise you made in the hallway The one you denied by the end of the night I keep the name that still changes your breathing When somebody says it a little too right I keep the reason you paid for the damage I keep the line where the bargain got crossed You can call it a phase, you can call it forgiveness I call things by what they cost I don’t chase truth I let it arrive Some things confess just trying to survive I don’t steal, I receive You gave me more than you meant to No one begs; they call it need Now I know what still owns you And I keep it I keep it (keep it—) I keep it (keep it—) The Collector. You can bury the want You can polish the reason You can make every witness sound cruel You can leave with your story cut clean at the edges But I know what walked in here with you Not the money Not the mouth Not the little performance of doubt Not the prayer Not the plea Just the part that answered me I don’t steal, I receive You gave me more than you meant to No one begs; they call it need Now I know what still owns you And I keep it I keep it (keep it—) I keep it (keep it—) I don’t steal, I receive You gave me more than you meant to No one begs; they call it need Now I know what still owns you And I keep it I keep it I keep it The Collector.