[Intro]
[A mailbox slams on beats two and four before the shuffle band enters.]

Final notice, crimson print.
Even doom arrives with mint-condition ink.

[Verse 1]
I wore my cleanest royal shirt,
Brushed the plaster from the dirt.
At Union Bank on Market Square,
A plastic chair became my lair.
The clerk asked, “Income?” I said, “Rain.”
She typed it twice, then asked again.
“Assets?” “Clouds from east to west.”
She clicked a box marked “Unverifiable request.”

[Chorus]
My thunder has bad credit,
Every lender’s red it.
My name once opened iron gates;
Now it barely clears the rates.
I can shake the glass, but I can’t debit—
My thunder has bad credit.

[Verse 2]
She found the blackout, found the fee,
Found three months’ electricity.
She found a court claim from the roof,
And asked for documented proof
That I remained the god I claimed.
I showed one spark; the sprinkler rained.
Security approached in navy blue:
“Sir, keep your supernatural hands where we can view.”

[Pre-Chorus]
I said, “My word once backed the sun.”
She said, “Those days are overdrawn.”
I said, “I guarantee the storm.”
She slid across another form.

[Chorus]
My thunder has bad credit,
Every lender’s red it.
My name once opened iron gates;
Now it barely clears the rates.
I can shake the glass, but I can’t debit—
My thunder has bad credit.

[Guitar Solo]
[Stinging guitar bends answer clipped Hammond chords over the shuffle turnaround.]

[Verse 3]
Outside, the eagle’s clinic called:
“His tests are done. He’s stable overall.”
Relief came warm, then shame came cold;
Athena’s transfer paid the whole.
I stared at coins inside my palm—
Not enough for bread, much less for calm.
For once no one had robbed my throne;
I had spent the years and blamed the loan.

[Bridge]
Debt is not a lightning strike;
It gathers quiet, night by night.
A bill ignored, a promise bent,
A favor dressed as punishment.
I called each chain beneath me weak—
Then found my pride had signed each sheet.

[Break]
[Bass and handclaps continue beneath a low creditor response.]

Pay what you owe.
Say what you need.
Power without measure
Is another kind of greed.

[Final Chorus]
My thunder has bad credit,
And at last I have to let it
Stand without a royal claim,
Without a curse attached to my name.
I can shake the glass, but I can’t debit—
My thunder has bad credit.
The debt is mine; I finally said it.
My thunder has bad credit.

[Outro]
[The shuffle ends with one quiet mailbox slam.]

A letter falls.
I let it lie.
Then pick it up
And red it twice.