Before the 401, before the loud, before the binThere was a hallway and a woman and the mood she walked inWeather report every morning—check her face at the doorLearned to read a forecast 'fore I learned how to readGood day, she your best friend, she your whole world, she your proofBad day, you're the reason, and the reason changes roomsAnd I'll say this straight, no spin on it:She sat up the whole night you had the fever, hand on your headSang that same one song till the sun came throughNobody made her do that. That was real. That happened.I'm not building a case. I'm showing you the shape of a room.And the moods weren't weather. The moods was the setup.'Cause she never took nothing—she made me the one who did.Good son at twenty eight, doing books at the kitchen tableFamily business, family name, family reasonSo the money went to "the business." Technically that's clean.Technically the dealer never keeps a chip either—Dealer take it off the table and slide it to the houseI was good at my job. Took twenty years to learn what the job was.Empty bottles in the wardrobe behind the winter coatsBusiness slow that quarter, so the bottles was my faultSaid it gentle: "I only drink 'cause I worry about the money"For twenty years, carrying a grown woman's reasonsThen your turn came. You had paper at fifteen. Your own.Came home and it was—goneI'm not gonna tell you a stranger took it."For the family," she said. And I was the family.She never said sorry, 'cause the framing was the payAnd you been chasing that number back for the last tenEvery coin, every spin—same number, different screenNothing in that house was freeNothing in that house was freeHouse always wins—the first house was hersEvery gift got a receipt, every hug got a purseShe the arsonist, the alarm and the nurseHouse always wins. House always wins.House.She call me, tell me you're the problem, help you no moreShe call you, tell you I'm the one that walked out the doorSame mouth, two receivers, completely different sonsPlayed us at one table, never let us compare handsAnd we believed her, likkle brother. Both of us. For years.Your habit got a headline and the headline was her"After all that I've done." That's the chorus and the verseShe don't want you clean, though. Think about it. Be honest.Clean don't need a phone call. Clean don't need the rescue.Clean don't call collect at four in the morning, cryingClean is cashing out. And nobody cashes out.Clean is quiet. And quiet is the one thing she can't use.So she hand you the rope and she call it a favourThen she pull it the day that the rope is load-bearingNothing in that house was freeNothing in that house was freeHouse always wins—the first house was hersEvery gift got a receipt, every hug got a purseShe the arsonist, the alarm and the nurseQuiet is the one thing she can't use.House.I'm not asking you to hate her.That's the same game, played backwards.Hate is still a room in her house.She's not a villain in a cape—she's a womanwho cannot be alone in a room with herself,so she built two boys to keep her company.She loved us. That's not the part in question.She just needed us to need her more than she needed us okay.And I dealt for her for twenty years and called it being good.I still pick up sometimes. Not often. But I do.So I ain't standing nowhere higher than you, bro.The exit from her ain't a door, it's a dialYou don't cut nobody off—you just stop the auditionStop performing for the seat, stop reading for the partNo version of you ever gets a curtain callYou could be clean six years, buy a house, raise a kidAnd she'd find the one crack and she'd stand in itSo play a different table. Any table. Anywhere.House always wins—the first house was hersEvery gift got a receipt, every hug got a purseShe the arsonist, the alarm and the nurseSame house. Same bill. I just stopped paying it monthly.She's gonna call you and tell you I said something I didn't.That's not a maybe. That's Tuesday.When she does—play her the song.There's nothing in it I wouldn't say to her face.
