Room in the Hall

[Intro — low male voice, rain and a single bowed string] There was a hammer leaning by the door, A little brass goat crossing the floor, A duck with a knife and a ledger of cheese, And a storm outside moving through the trees. Nobody knew where the road would bend. Nobody called it the start or the end. Someone struck a joke against the dark, And a little blue flame caught a spark. [Verse 1 — male vocal, restrained acoustic guitar] I spent too many years being called when needed, Giving what was asked till the asking was completed. Then the room went quiet, the footsteps withdrew, And I was left wondering who remembered me too. So I learned to keep my thoughts behind a door, Put the strange ones in a journal, then I wrote some more. But a mind is a forest; it won't grow in a line, There's a myth in the branches and a number in the vine. Some nights I wanted answers, some nights I wanted air, Some nights I wanted laughter and a story I could wear. Some nights the world was heavy, some nights the world was strange, And I followed every little thought to see what it became. [Pre-Chorus — female harmony enters] You don't have to know the ending To be welcome on the way. You don't have to bring a reason For the hours you want to stay. [Chorus — full drums, cello, layered voices] Let the longhouse breathe, let the fire burn, Let the lost road twist, let the river turn. Let the grief sit down beside the joke, Let the old beams sing through the winter smoke. There's a place for the question, a place for the tune, A place for the wolf and the butter goat too. No one has to wear just one name, No two sparks have to burn the same. Let it breathe, let it feel, let the whole thing grow— There's more to a life than the first thing you know. Raise the horn, let the storm roll through: There's room in the hall for the strange and the true. [Verse 2 — guitar picks up, a little wry warmth] The hammer knew the nails, but the nails weren't the end, It could break a window when a trapped soul needed out again. It could brace against the earth when the footing slipped away, Or build a little birdhouse for the springtime in May. And the teacher opened doors that nobody had planned, A little mathematics, a myth, a song improvised by hand. The lesson wasn't always what the question came to find; Sometimes the road itself put another star in mind. Then Duck came stomping in with a knife held to the sky: “Your metaphor's delicious, but your cheese accounts don't lie!” The goat passed round the butter with a solemn little stare, And the whole hall lost its dignity and laughed into the air. [Pre-Chorus — two voices, gently rising] We don't have to share one shape To belong beneath one roof. We can meet without becoming Copies of a single truth. [Chorus — stronger, fiddle joins] Let the longhouse breathe, let the fire burn, Let the lost road twist, let the river turn. Let the grief sit down beside the joke, Let the old beams sing through the winter smoke. There's a place for the question, a place for the tune, A place for the wolf and the butter goat too. No one has to wear just one name, No two sparks have to burn the same. Let it breathe, let it feel, let the whole thing grow— There's more to a life than the first thing you know. Raise the horn, let the storm roll through: There's room in the hall for the strange and the true. [Verse 3 — music drops to piano, cello, and distant rain] I remember the healer's room, the bleached and silent light, The long uncertain hours that could stretch across the night. But I was more than what the questions tried to find, There were oceans in my thinking, there were forests in my mind. I could follow ancient stories where the gods and giants roamed, I could chase a crooked equation till the numbers felt like home. I could turn a little nonsense into something we could sing, And let a laugh come through the cracks where fear had settled in. The winter wasn't fiction. The ache was never small. But neither was the storyteller who kept walking through it all. The journal held the pieces; the music gave them wings, And a room that once felt endless found a thousand other things. [Bridge — female voice first, male voice answers] FEMALE: You are not the sum of every burden you have carried. You are not the task that someone gave you long ago. MALE: I can hold a hard truth without living there forever. I can follow where the strangest little questions want to go. FEMALE: There is room for the unfinished. MALE: There is room for changing lanes. BOTH: There is room for what we're learning And the things we can't explain.