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Goldilocks Don't Live Here lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
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Intro
Big bump deep on the Palmetto, rain tapping the awning like it’s trying to get in Stove igniter click, last can of beans on the counter, phone on eight percent She pulled up in that Uber from across the bridge, said she just needed a place to think
Verse 1
Goldilocks in the 305, she don’t know the code Came through the door like the heat don’t live here, like the rain don’t soak the road Ate the last of the rice, left the pot on the stove with the fire low Sat in the only chair that don’t wobble, said “this one feel just right though” I was on the phone with the caseworker, trying to push the court date back She scrolling through my shit like it’s her timeline, like the password was a welcome mat Overtown on the ID, but she from the new side where they got gates Told me “you too sensitive” when I said don’t touch the mail on the crate
Chorus
She said the porridge was too hot, then too cold, then just right for her But it was my last grocery run, my last twenty from the corner store The chair broke under the weight of somebody who don’t pay the rent here Now I’m sitting on the floor with the pieces, wondering how the fuck she got in Goldilocks don’t live here, this ain’t no fairy tale, this the Bean She left the bed unmade and the lock off the door, like “good luck with that, king”
Verse 2
Next week she back with a friend, “we just chilling, don’t make it a thing” Now the fridge looking light, the ashtray full, and she got my charger on her keyring I got a letter from the office about “noise complaints”, she was loud on the phone at two Told them it was me, like I ain’t got enough problems trying to keep the lights on, fool Baby bear in the mirror, seeing how small the space really is When somebody bigger come through and decide what “just right” means for them I-95 at five AM, headlights cutting through the rain like judgment She sleeping in my bed like it’s a hotel, and I’m the one who feel like the intruder now
Chorus
She said the bed was too hard, then too soft, then just right for her skin But it was my only peace after twelve-hour shifts and court dates that never end The bowl still dirty in the sink, the chair leg snapped like it was personal I’m sweeping up the pieces while she posting “healing era” on her story, delusional Goldilocks don’t live here, this the 954, we don’t do fairy tales with happy ends She took what she needed and left the mess, now the lesson sitting in my hands
Verse 3
Look in the mirror, see the same eyes that let her in the first time Thought “maybe she different,” but different don’t mean she won’t take what ain’t hers to find The small life I built with overtime and prayers to keep the lights from getting cut She walked through it like it was a sample sale, tried on everything, didn’t give a fuck Now the chair is wood on the floor, the bed got her scent in the sheets And I’m realizing “just right” was never about comfort, it was about what she could eat Heat sitting heavy on the awning, rain tapping like it’s laughing at me I see the pattern now, every time I let somebody in, they leave with a piece of the little I got left
Verse 4
So this time when she text “you home?” I hit her with the read and no reply She pulled up anyway, banging on the door like the rules don’t apply I opened it, looked her dead in the eye, said “you got the wrong address, shorty” This ain’t no Airbnb, this the spot I fight to keep every single morning She started with the “you acting different,” the “I thought we was cool” I told her “cool don’t mean you get to eat my last and break my shit and call it just right too” She left cussing, said I was “toxic,” but the toxic was the invasion Now the lock clicked behind her, and for the first time the silence felt like salvation
Chorus
She said it was just right, but it was mine, it was always mine. The porridge, the chair, the bed, the little peace I carved out in this concrete line. Goldilocks don’t live here no more, I changed the locks, I learned the code. If you ain’t helping build the bowl, then you don’t get to decide how the story go. This for every small bear trying to keep his shit in a world full of big appetites. Protect your space like it’s the last plate, ’cause it probably is some nights.
Verse 5
To the jit on the block with the same look in his eyes that I had at nineteen When somebody come through acting like your life is a menu and they get to pick the cuisine Don’t let ’em test the temperature, don’t let ’em sit in the chair till it snap The lesson ain’t “be mean”, it’s “know what just right means when it’s yours, and don’t give it back” Rain still tapping the awning, but now it sound like applause for the boundary Stove still clicking when I light it, but now the flame feel like it’s proud of me Goldilocks in the rearview, and the road ahead look smaller but clearer This the part where the bear stands up, and the story don’t end with him in the mirror
Outro
Rain. Silence.
Inside the recording
Big bump deep on the Palmetto, rain tapping the awning like it’s trying to get in Stove igniter click, last can of beans on the counter, phone on eight percent
She said the porridge was too hot, then too cold, then just right for her But it was my last grocery run, my last twenty from the corner store
Rain. Silence.
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.