Salvage Title

[Verse 1]
The city plat map from 1993, rolled up in the eaves.
Sunday afternoon, the smell of cedar and the first March leaves.
She watched the dust motes build a temporary architecture in the light,
A slow-motion rendering of everything that wasn't right.

[Pre-Chorus]
Every street name's different now, every corner lot reframed.
The river’s bend is redrawn, the old foundry just a name.
It's the same ink, she thought, the same paper, same bone,
But is a city still a city when every girder is unknown?

[Chorus]
Is this a salvage title on a love we rebuilt plank by plank?
Or just a blueprint for the stranger that I really have to thank?

[Verse 2]
He unrolls it on the floorboards, traces a thin pencil line.
"Look at us then," he laughs, "thought that whole world was a gold mine."
She doesn't see the kid he was, just the scar above his eye,
The one he got that winter the U.S. Steel plant waved goodbye.

[Pre-Chorus]
Every old belief is gone, every promise re-assessed.
Replaced the faulty wiring, put the foundation to the test.
It's the same address, she thought, the same mortgage, same loan,
But is a house still a house when every window has been thrown?

[Chorus]
Is this a salvage title on a love we rebuilt plank by plank?
Or just a blueprint for the stranger that I really have to thank?

[Bridge]
They say every cell is new about every seven years.
We traded out the bad parts to quiet all the fears.

[Outro]
A far-off whistle from the 30th Street track.
A salvage title love. No turning back.