Lyrics

[Verse 1]
Frank showed up with a look in his eye,
Like he’d argued with God and almost won the reply.
Said, “Let’s mutate,” then strummed a broom,
Set fire to the silence in my little room.

He played like the truth had lost its leash,
Wrote ballads that barked, and lullabies with teeth.
I just hit record and tried to hang on,
While the floorboards wept and the night played along.

[Chorus]
Frank took the honey, but left the light on,
Wrote a gospel in dust before the dawn.
Mama said, “That boy’s touched or cursed,”
But we knew better—he just sang it first.
Spider Loft saints with tape-deck crowns,
Two nobodies tryin’ to shake the town.

[Verse 2]
Now here’s where it bends from story to song:
Frank’s throat went dry, said, “This’ll go all wrong.”
I said, “Kitchen’s that way, third shelf in the back.”
Didn’t know he’d trigger a full-on attack.

Mama came in like a heat-seekin’ missile,
Caught Frank mid-cabinet, lookin’ docile.
She screamed, “You got a key to my pantry, boy?”
He said, “No, ma’am—but I brought the joy.”

[Chorus]
Frank took the honey, but left the light on,
Turned my mama’s fury into a song.
That legend’s grown legs and a southern twang,
Like a possum at church or a dog in a gang.
We broke no laws but the musical kind,
Spider Loft blues in a bottle of time.

[Bridge]
And who else would rhyme “collapse” with “grace”?
Or turn a grocery list into outer space?
Frank wrote like the clock was lying,
I just added beats to keep us from crying.

We weren’t great, we weren’t clean,
But we built a kingdom out of warped machines.
Every laugh was a prayer with dirt on its knees,
And every chorus a form of disease—
One you wanted to catch.

[Final Chorus]
Frank took the honey, but left the light on,
Left a hole in the air I still write on.
He’s a myth in my mother’s recipe book,
A stanza misplaced in the way things look.
If no one remembers the songs we played—
Let ’em feel the echo in the mess we made.

[Outro – Spoken]
You ever try explainin’ that kind of thing to a normal person?
“Yeah, Ma, he broke in… for honey.”
Nah.
He was just thirsty—for more than tea.
And damn if we didn’t drink deep.