[Verse 1]
Six o'clock sharp at the house on Larkspur,
Mother-in-law's got the good napkins out and a sharper word.
Pot roast steaming, Sunday best is on,
She's eyeing my sleeve tattoo like something's gone wrong.
Dad-in-law asks when I'm getting "a real job,"
Uncle chimes in like a slow clap, like a scoff.
Fork scrapes china, silence does the talking,
I count the floor tiles just to keep from walking.
Punctilious crew, precise to the needlepoint,
They measure how you dress, how you pray, every joint.
I smile like I'm reading terms and conditions,
Nodding along to their fine-print positions.
[Chorus]
Pass the gravy, hold the verdict,
I didn't come here to be re-certified.
Love me plain or love me seasoned,
Either way I'm walking in alive.
[Verse 2]
Tuesday I map the drive instead of the mood,
Turn-by-turn says forty minutes, arrival time true.
Traffic's backed up past the water tower bend,
The app points me to a diner, says wait it out, friend.
I sip my coffee, let the clock do the chewing,
Roll in right on time, no apology brewing.
Later at their place when the chatter turns barbed,
I excuse myself, lock the bathroom, start the timer — ten minutes, hard.
Run the tap, breathe slow, count backward from sixty,
Come out steady, not stewing, not prickly.
Small tricks, sure, but they buy me the room,
To sit at their table and not combust too soon.
[Bridge]
Still they'll measure my life with their old wooden ruler,
Still that pot roast table stings like a paper cut, minor but truer.
No hack unlocks their blessing, no clever request —
I just drive there anyway, and call that my best.
[Chorus]
Pass the gravy, hold the verdict,
I didn't come here to be re-certified.
Love me plain or love me seasoned,
Either way I'm walking in alive.
[Verse 3]
Christmas Eve now, lights strung tight and white,
Mother-in-law hands me an apron, calls it a rite.
Maybe it's armor, maybe it's a peace sign,
I tie the strings twice, step into her line.
Dad-in-law shows me the shed, the old man's domain,
Talks about engines like it's easing some strain.
I ask him questions, let the silence do some good,
Turns out there's common ground under all that wood.
It isn't forgiveness, not some movie-scene cry,
Just two men working, not asking why.
Maybe the ruler bends a little with time,
Maybe plain and seasoned both can rhyme.
[Chorus]
Pass the gravy, hold the verdict,
I didn't come here to be re-certified.
Love me plain or love me seasoned,
Either way I'm walking in alive.
[Outro]
Pass the gravy, hold the verdict,
I'll keep driving down that road, unmodified.
Love me plain or love me seasoned,
Either way I'm walking in alive.