EASEMENT RIGHTS

[Verse 1]
Tuesday, 2 AM, that QuikTrip off Moreland, air smelling like rain and gas.
Saw David's silver Accord by pump three, the one with the cracked rear glass.
He was leaned in the passenger window, talking low, hand on a shoulder that wasn't hers.
I was just grabbing a water, freezer aisle humming a dissonant verse.
Felt like I was trespassing on a blueprint I didn't draw, just reviewed.
A structural flaw in his new addition, a truth that felt skewed.
The overhead light was buzzing a blue-white, a cold analytical beam,
Felt the weight of a call I ain't made, a phantom mainline scream.

[Chorus]
These are easement rights to an old foundation.
A phantom limb on a torn-up parcel, no negotiation.
Still feel the property line running under my feet.
Watching new concrete crack from across the street.

[Verse 2]
I remember the kitchen, late August, the gecko trapped behind the pane.
You were drawing new floor plans on a napkin, trying to talk down the hurricane.
"Don't you ever bring the outside in," you said, voice flat as a slab poured wrong.
Now her new foreman's doing demo work where the wiring don't belong.
Is it my place to post up a warning sign, cite the code, call the inspector in?
Or do I just let the rebar rust, watch the invasive rot begin?
This ain't my load to carry, it's his retaining wall that's failing now,
But I built the first house on this dirt, and I still remember how.

[Chorus]
These are easement rights to an old foundation.
A phantom limb on a torn-up parcel, no negotiation.
Still feel the property line running under my feet.
Watching new concrete crack from across the street.

[Bridge]
The jet engine roar cuts the silence, a Delta heading for the coast.
He never saw me standing there, just a load-bearing ghost.
I paid for the water in cash. Left the change on the counter, precise.
Some things you only build once. You don't get to build 'em twice.

[Outro]
Yeah. That jet overhead... just another revision.
Another demolition.