Kind Ain’t Easy
Album
Kind Ain’t Easy walks the hard road between grace and grit. These songs tell stories of people who’ve seen life up close — their scars, their laughter, their stubborn tenderness all laid bare in the dust and the rain. The album moves through love’s heat and heartbreak, through the quiet ache of being misunderstood, through the long work of staying gentle in a rough-edged world. Each track carries a soul worn but unbroken, searching for redemption not in heaven but in human hands. The sound leans bluesward — raw and honest — with country weaving through it like the slow hum of a backroad engine.
Half the voices here are women, half men, but all speak from the same bone — each one wrestling mercy out of the mess. From the defiant strength of “Half Silk, Half Blade” to the hushed longing of “Safe Haven,” from the haunted tenderness of “War Child Blues” to the unguarded sensuality of “You Make Music Out of Me,” the album stands where love, pain, and resilience meet. Kind Ain’t Easy is a hymn for those who’ve learned compassion the hard way — through loss, through labor, through the courage to stay kind when kindness costs the most.
1. It All Caught Fire
I been waiting on you since the world was new,
Didn’t know your shape, but I always knew.
Something in the night kept calling through,
Somethin’ bright that felt like you.
I ain’t torn, no, I ain’t empty —
I was whole before you found me.
But when you came, it all caught fire,
Two souls, one steady desire.
We don’t need fixing, don’t need proof,
Just the spark between our truth.
Yeah, when you came, it all caught fire.
I don’t need your touch to make me full,
And lord knows I already been dyed in the wool.
But baby when your eyes found mine,
The air turned thick with a new design.
You light the city from inside out,
No question left, no shade of doubt.
’Cause when you came, it all caught fire,
Love don’t beg, and love don’t tire.
We don’t need a reason, we don’t need rules,
Just two bright flames breaking old blues.
Yeah, when you came, it all caught fire.
Love ain’t gentle, but it means no harm,
It holds you honest inside its arms.
It don’t play games, it don’t disguise,
It knows the ache behind the eyes.
And when it speaks, it whispers low —
I’m here, I’ve always been, you know.
Yeah, when you came, it all caught fire,
Two lights met and then rose higher.
You turn this wild thing soft again,
Like running water cooling skin.
Yeah, when you came, it all caught fire.
2. Kind Ain’t Easy
She asked me one night in a room half dark,
“How you still kind when the streets get hard?”
I looked at the moon through the screen frame,
and said, “You learn it slow, you learn it through pain.”
The stars didn’t answer, but the wind sure sighed,
like it knew the times I cried.
Kind ain’t easy, no, it ain’t free —
takes a heart that’s been down on its knees.
Comes from knowing what cold feels like,
comes from walking without no light.
Kind ain’t easy, but it’s all I know —
that’s how even the softest seeds grow.
I’ve seen hard men spit and slam the door,
and sweet talk turn to a thunder roar.
But I found peace in a stranger’s eyes,
and I learned that hurt can civilize.
There’s a quiet strength in giving more,
when the life’s too broke to keep score.
Kind ain’t easy, no, it ain’t free —
takes a heart that’s been cracked at the seams.
Comes from loss and comes from rain,
comes from fighting not to be the same.
Kind ain’t easy, but it’s what I choose —
it’s how I make my black to blues.
There’s dirt beneath these clean up hands,
I’ve dug my calm from bitter lands.
You don’t show soft from livin’ gone smooth,
you earn your grace with something to prove.
I don’t thank the ache, but I bless the day,
It taught me how to stay.
Kind ain’t easy, no, it ain’t free —
takes a heart that’s healed from injury.
Comes from silence, comes from scars,
from headin’ home under no stars.
Kind ain’t easy, but I’ll stay true —
’cause the world gets mean, but I’ll shine through.
3. Half Silk, Half Blade
They said a woman oughta learn to bend,
Hold her tongue and just pretend.
But I’ve seen storms that bowed the pines,
And held my ground through darker times.
You can hush my voice, but you can’t erase
The thunder stitched beneath my grace.
I was made heavy, half silk half blade,
Too soft to rust, too strong to fade.
Don’t ask me kindly, don’t ask me plain —
I was born in the wild, I don’t fear the rain.
Yeah, I was made heavy, half silk half blade.
You call me sharp, you call me mean,
But truth cuts clean where lies stay green.
Your quiet’s sugar, mine’s a scar,
A whisper forged from who we are.
The mirror’s kind but it won’t hide
The ache that’s learned to stand with pride.
I was made steady, half silk half blade,
Wove my calm where the noise was made.
You can curse my shadow, love my flame —
It all still answers to my name.
Yeah, I was made steady, half silk half blade.
In the small hours when the world feels thin,
I trace the ghosts that live in skin.
Every word I’ve swallowed whole
Left fingerprints upon my soul.
I walk with silence, I walk with sound —
A weight that floats, a light that’s bound.
I was made heavy, half silk half blade,
Cut from sorrow, but never afraid.
You can turn your back, I won’t fade away —
Some truths don’t beg, they stay.
Yeah, I was made heavy, half silk half blade.
You said my strength makes me hard to love,
But I ain’t praying for approval above.
The world keeps asking me to trade
My thunder for a quieter shade.
But I was not born to play that part —
I carry the weather inside my heart.
I was made holy, half silk half blade,
Not easy to follow, not meant to be saved.
If you ever touch this kind of flame —
You’ll remember the cut, not the name.
Yeah, I was made holy, half silk half blade.
4. I Kept Falling
Porch light flickers, the night feels long,
Ain’t no shelter where I belong.
Whiskey glass sweats like a guilty hand,
I made my way through a broken land.
Tried to find warmth in a shadowed room,
Love keeps strummin’ another tune.
If I’d ever known what safety means,
I’d have settled where life’s lived clean.
I wandered through bleak thunder skies,
Trading comfort for alibis.
Yeah, I kept falling, Lord, I kept falling —
Into arms that don’t confine.
Perfume lingered, but eyes were stone,
Talked of forever, left me alone.
The radio blared some Memphis player,
While the wind confessed through an empty chair.
The floorboards creaked like a restless soul,
Telling stories I never told.
If I’d heard the sound of gentle truth,
I might have tamed a wilder youth.
Instead I danced where cold hearts resign,
Fed on hunger and cheap red wine.
Yeah, I kept falling, Lord, I kept falling —
Into arms of all kinds
The rain came steady, quiet and slow,
Washed my sins, but let them show.
Even mercy got tired of me,
Turned her face to the willow tree.
The sky was kind, but the ground was mean,
And love stayed frozen in between.
If harbor’s just a whispered prayer,
Then I been talking to the air.
All I ever held became rough with time,
Hopeless love crossing the line.
Yeah, I kept falling, Lord, I kept falling —
Into arms soft intertwined.
Somewhere a woman walks through smoke,
Her voice the ache no vow can choke.
A yard swing sighs in a weary moon,
The stars go out too soon.
And I, a fool in worn-out shoes,
Still chasing what I will only lose.
If I’d ever seen how true love leans,
I could have chased simpler dreams.
But here I’m drifting, same paradigm,
Always falling for the familiar signs.
Yeah, I kept falling, Lord, I kept falling —
Into arms I leave behind.
5. Invisible Girl Blues
Mama taught me silence before I could cry,
How to keep small when the thunder rolled by.
Her love came heavy, sweet and rough,
And I learned early that enough ain’t enough.
They said a girl should fade like dusk —
Soft on the eyes, quiet with trust.
Yeah, I got the Invisible Girl Blues,
Learned how to vanish just to get through.
Still I rise with the wind’s slow sigh,
Still I breathe, just to stay alive.
Yeah, I got the Invisible Girl Blues.
Dinner plates shining, voices tight,
I learned how to fold myself at night.
Chairs scrape slow, the air don’t move,
The rhythm of shame’s a hardened groove.
And all that weight, it don’t belong —
But I’ve been carrying it too long.
Yeah, I got the Invisible Girl Blues,
Born in the quiet I couldn’t refuse.
Still I rise with the wind’s slow sigh,
Still I breathe beneath the sky.
Yeah, I got the Invisible Girl Blues.
Somewhere between the ribs and spine,
Lives a whisper that won’t align.
A hollow temple, a steady beat,
A ghost that hums beneath the heat.
And I, the echo dressed in skin,
Keep on living where I’ve been.
Yeah, I got the Invisible Girl Blues,
I shine like sorrow in the dew.
Still I rise with the wind’s slow sigh,
Still I breathe, and the world walks by.
Yeah, I got the Invisible Girl Blues.
6/7. From the Same Bone (I & II)
You call at dusk, your voice low and worn,
Ask how I been, how the weather’s turned.
We talk of nothing, but it still feels deep,
Like water running where roots don’t sleep.
Your silence rustles through the phone,
And I hear myself in your tone.
We’re from the same bone,
Cut by time, carved by stone.
You speak through quiet, I speak through ache,
Both of us breaking in the love we make.
Yeah, we’re from the same bone.
You’ve been walking that lonesome mile,
Carrying ghosts with a steady style.
You don’t say much, but I understand,
You built your peace with a trembling hand.
The words you hide, I’ve known too well —
That kind of pain don’t need to tell.
We’re from the same bone,
Made of weight and wanting alone.
The world hit hard, but we still stand,
Quiet hearts and weathered hands.
Yeah, we’re from the same bone.
Some nights I see you in my eyes,
Like the echo that memory ties.
Our love ain’t loud, but it’s grown slow,
Like moss on the stone, taking hold below.
And though we fail to find the phrase,
Our silence speaks in tender ways.
We’re from the same bone,
The same ache, the same unknown.
You don’t say love, but I still hear —
The way you stay, the way you’re near.
Yeah, we’re from the same bone.
8. Earth and Rain
You asked me once what you mean to me,
Your eyes like rain over rusted sea.
I took your hand, the room went still,
Said you’re the hope I can’t distill.
Not heaven, not hell — just the truth I know,
Where love’s got roots and time can’t go.
You smell like earth and herbs and rain,
A little more human, a little less pain.
You’re the faint line I keep tracing on,
Between faith and blindly hangin’ on.
Yeah, you smell like earth and rain.
You touched my mind before my skin,
Said I was the finest art you’d ever seen
Didn’t call me pretty, didn’t call me sweet,
You found your balm in my heartbeat.
That kind of love, it don’t fade fast —
It’s the kind that knows what shadows cast.
You smell like earth and herbs and rain,
A little more human, a little less pain.
You’re the faint line I keep tracing on,
Between faith and blindly hangin’ on.
Yeah, you smell like earth and rain.
You said, “I ain’t an easy one to want,”
And I smiled like sin I meant to flaunt.
’Cause I don’t crave simple, I crave the storm —
Where love feels lived-in, bruised, and warm.
Where the night don’t promise, it just stays,
And mercy walks in gentle ways.
You smell like earth and herbs and rain,
A little more human, a little less pain.
You’re the faint line I keep tracing on,
Between faith and blindly hangin’ on.
Yeah, you smell like earth and rain.
9. War Child Blues
Mama gave too much for one soul to hold,
Poured her heart out warm, and it turned me cold.
Her hands were mercy, her voice was prayer,
But her kind of love left me gasping for air.
She meant it holy, she meant it deep,
But you can drown in the tears she keeps.
I got the War Child Blues, caught between what’s right and what’s true,
Half of me reaching, the other half through.
Every scar’s a map that don’t stay drawn,
Seems my sorrow’s what the world feeds on.
Yeah, I got the War Child Blues.
My old man’s ghost don’t make a sound,
Still, his shadow’s always hanging around.
A chair at the table, an echo in the hall,
He ain’t gone — he just don’t call.
Some roots don’t grow, they twist instead,
And bloom inside your head.
I got the War Child Blues, a war I never chose,
Peace and anger tangled close.
One side wants to lay me down,
The other side keeps holding ground.
Yeah, I got the War Child Blues.
There’s a line that cuts through every name,
Between love and loss, between pride and shame.
Somewhere I’m both storm and field,
Both the wound and what it healed.
And when I sing, I don’t choose a side —
The pain just opens wide.
I got the War Child Blues, walking where no one stays,
Both the reason and the haze.
I carry more than I was made to bear,
And still got love to spare.
Yeah, I got the War Child Blues.
10. You Make Music Out of Me
You walked in easy, like a summer storm,
Smelled of honey and something warm.
Your words enticed, your eyes pierced deep,
The night forgot what it means to sleep.
I said, baby, you look like a sin I’d bless,
You smiled that grin that stops my breath.
You talk too much, I don’t mind that,
Turnin’ up the dial on my thermostat
Your voice undresses every thought I hide,
Pull my hair, let the rhythm decide.
Yeah, you make music out of me.
You said your heart don’t sit easy for long,
Said it breaks like thunder and ends like song.
Some days it lifts, some days it aches,
But I’d drink it again and raise the stakes.
You ain’t simple, and that’s your grace —
I’ll spend any night in your embrace
You talk too much, I don’t mind that,
Turnin’ up the dial on my thermostat
Your voice undresses every thought I hide,
Touch my skin, let the night confide.
Yeah, you make music out of me.
Love don’t ask — it arrives unplanned,
Like a sudden downpour on parched out land
You speak soft, I start to drown,
The world trails off when you lay me down.
My name sounds right when you let it go,
Low and hard, like something I used to know.
You talk too much, I don’t mind that,
Turnin’ up the dial on my thermostat
Your voice undresses every thought I hide,
Rock me slow, let the time unwind.
Yeah, you make music out of me.
