(Verse 1)
Ceiling fan turning in a shotgun house,
Thunder shake the windows, ain't nobody talking loud.
Little shoes by the doorway, backpack on the floor,
Too young to know what grown folks fighting for.
Court papers folded like a Bible in the drawer,
Every signature another scar from a family war.
Daddy working doubles just to stay above the tide,
Mama counting every dollar with resentment in her eyes.
Phone ringing late, another argument in code,
Kid caught in the middle of a heavy grown road.
Nobody asking what the child really needs,
Just another battlefield planted with broken seeds.
(Hook)
Paper chains... wrapped around a little soul,
Everybody keeping score, everybody losing hope.
Cold rain falling on an old tin roof,
Truth gets buried when the money becomes proof.
Paper chains... heavier than iron bars,
Leave invisible wounds and unforgettable scars.
No heroes left when the lights grow dim,
Everybody pointing fingers... nobody healing them.
(Verse 2)
County courthouse casting shadows down the block,
Time keeps moving but the hurt don't stop.
Every birthday split between two different worlds,
Watching smiles disappear from a little boy and girl.
Money can't replace what a child deserves,
Peace gets drowned by angry words.
The bills get paid, but the silence gets fed,
Love starts dying where suspicion spreads.
Years roll by like a slow freight train,
Everybody remembers who carried the blame.
When the child grows up, they finally can see,
The cost wasn't dollars—it was family.
(Outro)
Spanish moss hanging like ghosts in the breeze,
Some wounds don't heal just because time leaves.
If love becomes leverage, everybody pays,
And the deepest debts last longer than days.
This version aims for a moody, Southern, cinematic feel, focusing on the emotional fallout for everyone involved—especially the child—rather than presenting the situation as one-sided or glorifying conflict.
HbKeed
