About the song
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Words from the artist’s archive
Permission Slips lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Intro
Dear Mom. The soul loop sound like dishwater cooling. Cabinet door. Microwave beep. Pen click. I learned your name before I learned mine in cursive.
Verse 1
Five-forty-five, winter blue on the sink Bread on the counter in a factory line Turkey for one, jelly for two, crust cut thin One eye on the clock, one ear on the dryer whine Permission slip under the salt and pepper I copied your letters till my wrist got sure Signed that looped M with a child-sized tremor Then packed my fear with the fruit snacks too Called the light bill deepening my little voice Said, "Ma'am, can we keep it on till Friday?" I stood on a chair by the wall phone cord Sounding grown in socks with cartoons on me Bus stop steam on the window glass Spatula grease on my uniform cuff At thirteen girls should've been missing earrings I was finding due dates in the final notice stuff
Pre-chorus
They said, "Look how mature she is" Like theft sounds better with a compliment
Chorus
At thirteen I should've been late for the bus I was on hold with the light bill learning your voice Should've been folding notes for a crush I was folding three lunches, making grown-up choices They called me strong cause the room needed proof Called me a blessing when the burden got slick I turned out fine is a lie with lipstick The lunch got packed, the childhood didn't
Verse 2
Teachers loved how calm I kept my brothers Aunties loved "the strong one" at the cookout That phrase fit over me like your old apron Too long in the straps, but I still wore it out Praise can bruise when it lands in the same place Every week, every month, every year They crowned what got taken like it was a virtue Polished the loss till it looked sincere I learned to count pills, count pennies, count tempers Count how much milk made breakfast stretch Count who was lying by the sound of their footsteps Count what a child can carry till it snaps in the chest
Pre-chorus
They never asked who handed me the keys Only liked how quiet I looked holding them
Chorus
At thirteen I should've been late for the bus I was on hold with the light bill learning your voice Should've been folding notes for a crush I was folding three lunches, making grown-up choices They called me strong cause the room needed proof Called me a blessing when the burden got slick I turned out fine is a lie with lipstick The lunch got packed, the childhood didn't
Verse 3
Sixteen, front office plastic chair My baby brother threw a desk in class Teacher slid me forms like this was standard Didn't blink once when she asked for "parent" Zip code normal, fluorescent mercy Coffee ring planets on the conference sheet I saw my life filed under behavior management Stamped routine, then pushed back to me No siren came, no substitute mother No hidden adult in the back of the scene Just me with a pen and a bus pass fading Realizing systems eat girls clean
Bridge
Running water. Soul loop only. Found you online. New city. New kitchen. New man. New baby in a onesie saying "Mama's First." First. That word cracked louder than a plate.
Verse 4
I drafted slow, neat as a bank statement Paragraph one almost sounded kind By paragraph two my commas were shaking Ink went dark where I pressed too hard How you start over wearing our missing years How you post sunlight with your hands so soft How the math makes sense only if four kids vanish Only if memory gets written off
Verse 5
I did not send it. That was not mercy. That was me taking my name back whole Read it out loud to the bathroom mirror Watched my mouth return what the house once stole Then folded the pages inside a shoebox With report cards, old keys, one school photo bent Of the kids I raised but never got to keep Like loving ain't ownership, just evidence So this ain't for your inbox, not for absolution Not for a heart react under a Sunday post It's for the girl by the counter, blue dawn on her shoulders Who kept everybody fed and called it home
Chorus
At thirteen I should've been late for the bus I was on hold with the light bill learning your voice Should've been folding notes for a crush I was folding three lunches, making grown-up choices They called me strong cause the room needed proof Called me a blessing when the burden got slick I turned out fine is a lie with lipstick The lunch got packed, the childhood didn't
Outro
Paper fold. Shoebox close. Cabinet hush. Soul loop cut. Dear Mom. Returned to sender.
Inside the recording
Dear Mom. The soul loop sound like dishwater cooling.
They said, "Look how mature she is" Like theft sounds better with a compliment
Paper fold. Shoebox close. Cabinet hush. Soul loop cut.
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.