[Intro] Keep the door from closing. Keep a little room. [Verse 1] You came in with rain in the cuffs of your coat, set your last warm sandwich beside my note. Said, “Take the chair, I can stand for a while,” then gave me the tired edge of your smile. You know every number the landlord can call, you still spend your last minutes patching my fall. I see how your hands shake when nobody sees— let me carry one corner; let your shoulders breathe. [Chorus] Help me up, then let me help you. One small light for the next one through. You don’t have to disappear to be kind. Leave a little mercy for your own life. [Verse 2 — fast rap] You make the rounds with a split shoe sole, three missed calls and a list you know by heart, find a ride, find a room, find a coat for a kid, make a little more out of the little you’ve got. But the kettle’s gone cold and the rent’s overdue, you keep saying “I’m fine” like it makes it come true. There’s a limit to giving with your name crossed out— let somebody in, let the truth come out. Take the meal, take the bed, take the ride home too, being held for a minute won’t lessen what you do. [Chorus] Help me up, then let me help you. One small light for the next one through. You don’t have to disappear to be kind. Leave a little mercy for your own life. [Bridge] You are not the spare key, you are not the open door. You can set the heavy bags down on this kitchen floor. [Verse 3 — fast rap] We can split the load, make a plan, make a call, put your name on the list, get you through it all. No saint, no savior, no debt to repay, just two people keeping one another in the day. When the next one knocks, we’ll answer together; not one burning out just to keep warm the weather. A hand that receives is a hand that can give— keep yourself here; that’s part of how we live. [Final Chorus] Help me up, then let me help you. One small light for the next one through. You don’t have to disappear to be kind. Leave a little mercy for your own life. [Outro] Leave a little mercy. Keep some for yourself.
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