Soft lights on the table where the stories lie
Silver forks reflect shadows of what we hide
The napkin’s stained but the truth’s still plain
We take a seat in silence, we carry the chain

Mother pours the tea, father clears his throat
The tablecloth holds memories of every note
Tâches on the linen like our names carved deep
Every mark a secret we promised to keep
Grandma softly humming in the corner of her gaze
She knows the history we treat like holidays
Kids laughing loud but the mood stays tight
We swallow the past though it sits in plain sight
Older voices whisper in rooms down the hall
Unsaid resentments decorating the wall
We pass the plates but not the words unspoken
We wear forgiveness thin, the fabric’s broken
The gravy flows easy, the pain stays thick
We toast to the future but the past still sticks
The napkin’s soaked but we don’t wipe the stain
Because the story’s ours and we own the pain

Tablecloth stains, they name our names
Secrets we never wash, echoes of old games
We dine in the hush, we dine in the ache
Generations seated where the silence takes
Tablecloth stains, they name our names
Legacy of quiet wars, never seen in the frames
We lift our glasses but we know the cost
In the theatre of smiles we drown what’s lost

Dad clears his throat and adjusts the light
Pretends the past is gone though it haunts the night
Cousins swap plates, avoiding the glance
The stain on the cloth stays in its trance
We’re heirs of unresolved, bearers of the hush
We dress the wound in laughter, rush the blush
Every toast’s a cover for something unsaid
Every smile a marker of what we fled
Mother touches the rim of her wine glass slow
Her eyes wander to a place we don’t go
Kids draw pictures of house and home
But walls built of silence won’t let us roam
The napkin catches drops but never the tears
We fold it each year, respect the fears
Still the cloth shows signs of the fights we lost
Sending signals in the wrinkles at the cost

Tablecloth stains, they name our names
Secrets we never wash, echoes of old games
We dine in the hush, we dine in the ache
Generations seated where the silence takes
Tablecloth stains, they name our names
Legacy of quiet wars, never seen in the frames
We lift our glasses but we know the cost
In the theatre of smiles we drown what’s lost

In the basement boxes old letters lie
“Sorry” never written, just passed us by
Broken phrases between the lines of ease
We hide the scars under the family breeze
Footsteps echo in rooms where we never walked
Voices paused in love but the silence talked
The fabric folds keep every remnant there
We watch the dinner end but the burden stays bare
We hold the napkin, we sniff the air
The stain’s not cleaned, it’s too aware
Generational muteness built on polite lies
We lift our forks but the truth don’t rise

Tablecloth stains, they name our names
Secrets we never wash, echoes of old games
We dine in the hush, we dine in the ache
Generations seated where the silence takes
Tablecloth stains, they name our names
Legacy of quiet wars, never seen in the frames
We lift our glasses but we know the cost
In the theatre of smiles we drown what’s lost

Lights dim slow, plates moved away
The stains remain where we once prayed
We fold the cloth, keep the scars concealed
Tablecloth stains, the truth unrevealed

Tablecloth Stains

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Gros dérapage

Seth Gueko

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