Lyrics

[Intro – CALEB, voice trembling, eyes wide]
CALEB:
Ms. Mae’s is not a restaurant.
It’s a curve.
It’s a fold.
A loose thread in the blanket of time that someone pulled—
and never stitched shut.
I don’t remember how I got here.
But I remember being here before I arrived.

⸻

[Verse 1 – FRANK, sharpening a fish that isn’t dead—or alive]
FRANK:
I gutted a fish and found a hallway.
Walked down it. Came back with gravy and fear.
Time don’t run in here—it coils.
Like steam with a secret. Like meat with a soul.

I fried a concept once. Served it with hushpuppies.
It screamed in French and blessed my knee.
This place don’t feed you.
It consumes your need to ask why.

⸻

[Verse 2 – CHRISTINA ONE, levitating]
CHRISTINA ONE:
I sneezed and birthed a second me.
She lives in the teacup.
We don’t speak.

She flirts with my shadow and licks the knives.
Says she remembers futures I haven’t survived.
We both float—but she floats wrong.
Like an upside-down hymn or a sideways song.

⸻

[Verse 3 – CHRISTINA TWO, whispering from inside a coffee mug]
CHRISTINA TWO:
I’m her but brighter.
Sharper. Worn.
I was born from the wishbone she broke in scorn.
I know the spoons. I named the pie.
I kissed the salt and taught forks to lie.

She calls me a glitch, but I call her slow.
I move where the jelly refuses to go.
I speak with no mouth, stir tea with thought.
You taste me in dreams you swore you forgot.

⸻

[Hook – ALL CHARACTERS, but slightly distorted]
🎵 Ms. Mae’s ain’t a place. It’s a bend.
Where clocks walk backward and napkins pretend.
You don’t walk in. You arrive sideways,
With mud in your memory and gravy in praise.

The tile don’t rest. The jelly confesses.
And time wears heels with bloodstained dresses.
If you eat the pie, say your last name twice—
Or Christina Two might offer… advice. 🎵

⸻

[Verse 4 – CALEB, pacing in spirals]
CALEB:
My notebook now writes in a tongue I unlearned.
Says I died here once.
Says I returned.
Christina spoke backward and I understood.
Then I forgot my own face.
It felt good.

Frank’s fish blink in Morse code grief.
And every Tuesday, I lose more belief.
But I keep showing up. I don’t know why.
Maybe the tea’s a map.
Maybe the slaw can fly.

⸻

[Final Chorus – ALL, looping, folding into themselves]
🎵 You don’t find Ms. Mae’s—it finds you bent.
Like a fork in a drawer where memory went.
The rolls recite riddles. The beans know pain.
And Christina’s in two—
One dry, one rain.

There’s no safe meal. No sugar that’s true.
Only butter that weeps and mirrors that knew.
Eat if you must. Float if you can.
But know this:
Ms. Mae remembers each man. 🎵

[Outro – MS. MAE, standing where no one sees her, facing the door before it opens]
MS. MAE:
“They never walk in.
They just show up hungry…
and wrong.”