Paint the Block

[Verse 1] You came with a ladder and a bucket of blue, Past the bus-stop queue where the crosswalk grew loud. The old brick wall had a city permit, And a dozen folks asking what you’d put on it. You sketched a river through the avenue, Then laid down gold where the morning buses move. A kid on a scooter said, “that’s not how it goes.” You smiled, “give it time. watch the whole thing grow.” [Pre-Chorus] By noon, the corner had gathered around, Each person pointing out a piece of their town. [Chorus] Paint the block in colors that carry a story, A red for the hands that keep the lights on, Green for the space where a new seed is growing, Blue for the voices that won’t be ignored. One wall, one street, and a thousand ways through it— Look what we can be when we see it together. Paint the block in colors that carry a story, And let that story move us forward. [Verse 2] You painted a tailor with a measuring tape, A nurse in her scrubs, the night-shift baker at eight. A row of small faces, no two drawn the same, A bright paper kite climbing over the train. The shopkeepers brought out their folding stools, A crossing guard laughed at your turquoise shoes. Then someone from upstairs came down with a plan: “Let’s clear that lot out and make it a garden.” [Pre-Chorus] The wall made a meeting where folks used to pass, With chalk on the pavement and names on the map. [Chorus] Paint the block in colors that carry a story, A red for the hands that keep the lights on, Green for the space where a new seed is growing, Blue for the voices that won’t be ignored. One wall, one street, and a thousand ways through it— Look what we can be when we see it together. Paint the block in colors that carry a story, And let that story move us forward. [Bridge] When the last coat dried, you stepped back in the sun, Not to sign your name big, but to leave room for one More line from the neighbors, one mark from the kids— A neighborhood sentence that everybody could finish. [Final chorus] Paint the block in colors that carry a story, A red for the hands that keep the lights on, Green for the space where a new seed is growing, Blue for the voices that won’t be ignored. One wall, one street, and a thousand ways through it— Look what we can be when we see it together. Paint the block in colors that carry a story, And let that story move us forward. [Outro] A river runs bright through the middle of town, And the people who painted it keep coming around.