A Different House

[Verse 1]
You find her hair tie by the mitre saw, a black thread from before September.
You brace the new doorframe, trying to remember
The specific torque of her hand on your own.
You’re learning the quiet math of being alone.

[Pre-Chorus]
First you replace a floorboard, then a window pane.
You patch the drywall, you forget the name
Of the color she chose for the west-facing wall.
You keep the studs, but you lose it all.

[Chorus]
Is it the same love if it's a different house?
Same two people with different mouths?
Are we the same?

[Verse 2]
She texted, “Running late, just leave Maya’s bag on the porch.”
That blue light feels colder than a welder’s torch.
You built that porch rail in the summer of ‘08.
A decade of rust sealing up the gate.

[Pre-Chorus]
First you replace the photos, then the coffee pot.
You learn a new rhythm for the love you ain't got.
You change the sheets, you try to kill the ghost.
You keep the foundation, but you lose the most.

[Chorus]
Is it the same love if it's a different house?
Same two people with different mouths?
Are we the same?

[Bridge]
The 4 a.m. freight train rattles the new glass.
A long, low question that’s built to last.
Are you the same man? That's what it asks.

[Outro]
Same hands. Same ache. Not the same.