[Verse 1] You walked in late with a verdict ready Hadn’t heard the second line Said it leaned a little too familiar Said the corners were too fine You like the paintings no one understands Hanging high above the stairs You know the price of every silence But not the weight of what got there [Pre-Chorus] You say blood makes it holy You say pain makes it real But you don’t know the difference Between the wound and what it heals [Chorus] You call it too easy I call it the door You call it too pretty I call it the floor Where people can stand Where the melody clears You bought the wall I brought the fire You brought the collector’s ear [Verse 2] You want the bridge to break its own back You want the rhythm out of time Like a song ain’t worth believing If it doesn’t make you climb You hate the chorus when it finds you Hate the hook when it lands Like the whole wide world is lesser If it fits inside your hands [Pre-Chorus] You say strange makes it smarter You say plain makes it cheap But the deepest water’s quiet And the truth don’t have to speak [Chorus] You call it too easy I call it the door You call it too pretty I call it the floor Where people can stand Where the melody clears You bought the wall I brought the fire You brought the collector’s ear [Bridge — mostly 4/4, restrained and cutting] You can hang a masterpiece In a room nobody enters You can praise the crooked line Like the crooked line remembers You can hate the Beatles You can sneer at the crowd You can call it sophistication When the heart’s not allowed But a song ain’t a secret Locked behind a velvet rope It’s a match in the dark It’s a hand full of hope [Turnaround — one bar of 7/4, slight stumble, then silence] The song still lands without you [Final Chorus — back to 4/4, bigger, controlled] So call it too easy I’ll call it the door Call it too poppy I’ll write ten more For the ones still driving For the ones still here Who don’t need permission From a collector’s ear You bought the wall I brought the fire You brought the collector’s ear [Outro — stripped down] You can frame the silence You can price the tears But you talked through the song With a collector’s There’s your seven There’s your thirteen There’s your fifteen Now tell me what it means