They might tell you.

They might tell you to hide your umbrella

Cause the rain ain’t coming

Or ain’t been felt in lord knows how long

But they ain’t seen rain

Like I’ve seen rain.

They might tell you to keep a clean house

Who they expectin’ over?

To cover your sofa with plastic

Like grandma used to

I rise in mess, honey.

I know what’s cluttered all over this place.

They might tell you something ain’t meant to be yours

If it ain’t got your name on it

That’s why I keep a marker in my purse

They too busy being erased to realize pencils ain’t as strong.

Write your name all over this place.

They might tell you that song that you been singing

Since you were a little girl

Ain’t a real melody.

Bellow it’s words

From the pit of your soul

And the cave of your belly

It ain’t got to be beautiful for nobody.

So you hum and skip to it.

You hear me?

Don’t let them tell you nuthin’