Every Seventh Year

[Verse 1]
The Metro sign on Spring Garden Road
is buzzing at a pitch I swear I've never known.
You cut your hair, I lost that workshop smell.
We traded out the pieces of ourselves
and never mourned the rotted planks that fell.

[Chorus]
We're not the same two kids who ran from the Atlantic rain.
Every seventh year, we wear a different grain.

[Verse 2]
Remember that first February thaw?
The sheer-load stress on every single law
we built our lives around. You found the sag.
"Just tear it out," you said, grabbing a bag,
"The joists are fine." A different scar for every flag.

[Chorus]
We're not the same two kids who ran from the Atlantic rain.
Every seventh year, we wear a different grain.

[Bridge]
They say the body makes a brand new start.
Replaces every worn-out, broken-hearted part.
Is this a copy of a copy of the art?

[Chorus]
We're not the same two kids who ran from the Atlantic rain.
Every seventh year, we wear a different grain.

(Song ends abruptly. 4 seconds of silence.)

[Outro]
Still the same ship. Brand new parts.