Ninety-Second Isobar

[Verse 1]
Three-forty-seven on the Vornado fan's display.
The dial tone is a perfect, flat A. I hold it to my ear.
This is the aperture closing at the end of the day.
The whole room becomes a high-pressure system, thick with fear.

[Chorus]
And the anger is a clean, blue chemical fire.
And my love for you is a constant carrier wire.

[Verse 2]
"Don't make this a thing," that's the ghost on the line.
The streetlight refracts through the bottom of the glass of wine.
I trace the condensation, a map of nowhere I know.
And hear the freight train on the Union Pacific track, groaning low.

[Chorus]
And the anger is a clean, blue chemical fire.
And my love for you is a constant carrier wire.

[Bridge]
This feeling has a temperature, a weight, a specific shade.
A trapped thermal inversion, from a promise poorly made.

[Outro]
A constant carrier wire...
(Music and vocals cut. Silence for 4 seconds.)

[Coda]
(Spoken, whispered, over the sound of a distant train)
Ninety seconds. The isobar holds.