Tarot · Track 63 · middle
King of Swords
RWS: a king enthroned facing straight out, sword tilted slightly in his right hand, butterflies and a crescent carved on the throne, two birds in a pale still sky. Keywords: law, intellect seated in authority, the impartial verdict, a mind that will not be charmed.
No audio yet — generation pending.
Lyrics
[Intro] [Verse 1] You brought your grievances stacked up in threes, Your color-coded binders and your history. I sit facing forward while you trade the blame For who left the porch light burning in the rain. I rest my left hand on this heavy oak, Tracing the crescent and the butterfly Carved in the armrest before either of you spoke. Behind you is a pale and empty sky. [Chorus] I am the edge that divides the room. I am the logic that you hired me for. I hold the silver pen tilted in my right hand, Drawing a border on a polished floor. I will not be charmed by the break in your voice. I will not be moved by the slam of the door. You wanted it equal, you wanted it fair. And fair is a terribly freezing air. [Verse 2] Let’s take the 1,403 vinyl albums, The joint tax returns and the dining room set. You argue the principle, I check the columns, My brain just converting the grief into debt. I see the geometry under your speech, The patterns of panic, the flinch in your jaw. But I cannot reach across the table to comfort— I am the vessel of impartial law. [Chorus] I am the edge that divides the room. I am the logic that you hired me for. I hold the silver pen tilted in my right hand, Drawing a border on a polished floor. I will not be charmed by the break in your voice. I will not be moved by the slam of the door. You wanted it equal, you wanted it fair. And fair is a terribly freezing air. [Bridge] Turn to the window. Two birds are suspended in absolute white, Caught in the draft, perfectly still in the light. Neither is falling, and neither is free. You look at the paper, and then look at me. The math is exact. The division is clean. The quietest violence that I've ever seen. [Outro] The ink is dry. The pen is set down. The pale, still sky Hangs over the town. You may gather your coats. Nobody wins when the verdict is true. I leave you exactly half of you.