Dead Reckoning

[Verse 1]
The rust on the Newlyn gate still spells our name, bold as you like.
It’s Sunday, almost four, and the damp seeps through this jacket on my bike.
Just… calling ‘cause I was tying off the tarp on the deck just now.
And my hands, they went and froze up somehow.

[Chorus]
It's the half-hitch curse, the unlucky ply.
The knot that unravels no matter how hard you try.
I don't believe a word of it, but I find my peace.
Some loads you don't fight, you just release.

[Verse 2]
The old man never said it, not in so many words.
But he’d check my work, his knuckles white as winter seabirds.
"It's in the blood, that weakness," is what Grandad used to say.
And I swore I'd build it different, grind that fault line away.

[Bridge]
(Phone noise, a tired breath)
Is that all this is?
A bad weld I just keep painting over?

[Chorus]
It's the half-hitch curse, the unlucky ply.
The knot that unravels no matter how hard you try.
I don't believe a word of it, but I find my peace.
Some loads you don't fight, you just release.

[Outro]
Anyway. Just thinking. Call me back.
(Click. Line goes dead.)