Small Permission

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

Vocal: Lila Rose Elyse

https://www.youtube.com/@lilaelyse

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

Lyrics

At the corner shop the papers leaned,
a slanted hymn of yesterday.
He smoothed the stack with librarian hands—
spines in line, the headlines tamed.
A bell said yes when I stepped out,
coins like quiet thunder in my coat.
I watched his care make order sing,
and felt a loosen in my throat.

I bought matches I didn’t need,
for the small permission of a flame—
something brief and almost nothing,
but it let my name feel like my name.

Small permission, tiny light,
a borrowed spark to soften night.
If the world is tilted, let it be,
we’ll straighten only what we keep.
Small permission, faithful air—
one bird sang and reset there.
I struck no flame, but still I swear,
a blackbird reset the air.

On the walk back, rain considered,
held its breath and kept it there.
Shopfront glass kept yesterday,
but the street wore brand-new care.
A bus exhaled, the sky uncreased,
I tucked the matches in my sleeve,
and let the seconds loosen knots
I didn’t know I’d tied to breathe.

I don’t need fires to confess,
just the right to maybe try—
the way a wick believes in heat,
the way a window trusts the sky.

Small permission, tiny light,
a borrowed spark to soften night.
If the world is tilted, let it be,
we’ll straighten only what we keep.
Small permission, faithful air—
one bird sang and reset there.
I struck no flame, but still I swear,
a blackbird reset the air.

We are stacks we keep arranging,
pages leaning into grace—
unstruck matches holding summer,
waiting kindly, staying brave.
Touch the edge and let it listen,
don’t demand the whole repair—
order is a form of kissing,
tidy corners, tended care.

I didn’t light a single thing—
and still the day grew warm and clean.

Small permission, tiny light,
not to fix but hold it right.
If the world is tilted, let it be,
we’ll straighten only what we keep.
Small permission, faithful air—
one bird sang and reset there.
I carry home that tender spare:
a blackbird reset the air.

Paper sigh, a match asleep,
and room enough to breathe.