Known Markings

[Verse 1]
(Voicemail beep)
Yeah, it's me. At the payphone by the MRI wing, the one that hums a low G.
The plastic on the receiver's gone sticky from the heat, or maybe just from me.
Been thinking 'bout that boat in the textbook, the one from Ancient Greece,
the one they kept afloat by swapping out each rotten piece.
It's Tuesday, I think. Past midnight. And I was reading the release form,
the bit in small print 'bout 'acceptable deviation from the norm.'
And I thought of you. I thought of us. And that dilapidated rig.
Just how many new parts can you fit before it's not the thing you think it is?

[Chorus]
If I swap the planks out, one by one, quiet in the dark,
when does the hull forget the shape it had right at the start?
If I sand the name off, paint a new one where it's scarred,
is it still the same ship I helped pull out the yard?

[Verse 2]
Right. Your room: one empty water glass with a lip-print going pale.
One copy of The Metro from last week, creased up on the bed rail.
The charging cable for a phone you don't own anymore.
A single Asics trainer, the left one, blocking the door.
A bottle of Lucozade, flat, the cap is screwed on wrong.
The get-well card I wrote you where I quoted the wrong song.
A prescription bag from Boots, unopened, by the lamp.
The silence where your laugh was, leaving everything feeling damp.

[Chorus]
If I swap the planks out, one by one, quiet in the dark,
when does the hull forget the shape it had right at the start?
If I sand the name off, paint a new one where it's scarred,
is it still the same ship I helped pull out the yard?

[Bridge]
'It's just a process,' that's what the leaflet said, standard procedure.
But the scaffolding's still up, a permanent load-bearing feature.
Holding up a facade I'm starting not to recognise.
Just an old blueprint with your handwriting and your eyes.

[Outro]
(Line crackles)
Anyway. Just… call me when you get this. If you get this.
(Click, dial tone)