Answering The Day

Songwriter, Producer and Music Editor: Andy Karsai / Arsenio Di Donato

Vocal: Lila Rose Elyse

Also available on all the major streaming services and social networks.

Lyrics

I woke to that pale, washed light,
making sidewalks look like first drafts.
The street was a sentence just begun,
and the air said, “You don’t have to rush that.”
My name felt gentle in my mouth,
no thunder, just a quiet yes.
I stood inside the hush of it,
and let the future take one breath.

The kettle sang so modestly,
no opera, only steam and grace.
I learned the note by leaning in—
a small warm hand on the morning’s face.

I’ll answer the day the way I’d answer a friend:
slowly, with fewer claims.
I’ll leave a little room for what doesn’t need fixing,
let the light be light, let the hands unlearn the clenching.
I’ll answer the day the way I’d answer a friend:
The street wore brand-new fingerprints,
bus tires whispering their psalms.
Windows blinked like fresh ideas,
and sparrows proofread all the palms.
I buttoned up a second try,
let last night’s noise go dim.
Stood in a doorway, practiced quiet,
and let the light come in.

No vows to conquer every hill,
no list to justify my skin.
Just: tea is hot, the plant is green,
and I’m forgiven for not winning.
I’ll trade the armor for a shawl,
and trade the should for could.
If nothing’s broken in this room,
I won’t call it bad for being good.

I won’t fix the sky for being pale,
won’t sharpen waves that want to roll.
I’ll let the sugar stay a grain,
the silence keep its narrow road.
I’ll let your face be what it is,
not brighter, younger, new—
and in the space I do not fill,
I’ll finally make room for you.

I’ll answer the day the way I’d answer a friend:
slowly, with fewer claims.
I’ll leave a little room for what doesn’t need fixing,
let the light be light, let the heart stop measuring.
I’ll answer the day the way I’d answer a friend—
“Come in, we can start at the end.”
If nothing’s broken, love, we’ll keep it unwritten,
and if something aches, we’ll learn how to listen.

The kettle’s hymn, the gentled spine,
a door that opens one more time.
Not every morning needs a crown—
some just ask you to sit down.