[Verse 1]
Tuesday at the laundromat, dryer number four,
told Marcus 'bout the mess with my sister and the lease,
said "keep it in your pocket, don't let it touch the floor,"
he nodded like a deacon, swore it on his peace.
By Friday it's reshaped, wearing a whole new spine,
heard it at the barbershop from a cousin of a friend,
details sanded smooth but the shame part's still mine,
traveling faster than the truth I'd meant to defend.
Funny how a whisper grows a megaphone in transit,
how "just between us" means "between us and six exits."
[Chorus]
I handed you a splinter, it came back as a spear,
my own small story wearing a stranger's voice to my ear.
I handed you a splinter, it came back as a spear,
the thing I said so quiet, now the whole block gets to hear.
[Verse 2]
So I change how I carry what I'm not ready to lose—
not every ear's a vault, some ears is just a hallway.
Found a message thread that's locked the way a diary never was,
the folks who built the app can't peek in, not even sideways,
they don't hold a key, so they can't hand one out or lose it.
And if somebody swaps their phone, or a stranger starts to use it,
a little flag goes up and says "hey, double-check this face"—
before you drop the next thing, make sure you know the place.
But the lock on the pipe don't lock the lips downstream,
my cousin's still my cousin with her own take on my scheme.
The screen can hide the words, but it can't hide the people,
and people, bless them, talk the way that church bells peal.
[Bridge]
There's no code that keeps a secret kinder,
no patch for loose lips at the dinner table.
I can pick my rooms, I can lock the door behind her,
still gotta trust the heart I think is able.
Some things stay a gamble dressed as a favor,
that part doesn't update, no matter who's the savior.
[Verse 3]
Now I sort my circle like a deck I've learned to read,
this one keeps a secret, that one plants a seed.
I ain't bitter at the garden for the way the wind behaves,
I just water different plots and watch which story stays.
Some folks get the whole truth, some just get the weather,
some get a closed door and a "we'll talk about it later."
It's not about the trust I lost, it's the trust I'm building new,
learning what to say in rooms, and what to just say to you.
The story's mine to shape before it leaves my mouth and flies,
so I'm slower with my telling, I'm careful with my whys.
[Chorus]
I handed you a splinter, it came back as a spear,
my own small story wearing a stranger's voice to my ear.
I handed you a splinter, it came back as a spear,
the thing I said so quiet, now the whole block gets to hear.
[Chorus]
I handed you a splinter, it came back as a spear,
my own small story wearing a stranger's voice to my ear.
I handed you a splinter, it came back as a spear,
the thing I said so quiet, now the whole block gets to hear.