Saint of Flatpack

[Verse 1]
The G-Plan sideboard from the Gloucester Road
Is waiting for a ghost I used to know.
Its new key is so cold against my thumb,
This first week of November, feeling numb.
I'm mapping out the warp of where you'd stand,
Just weaving silence with my own two hands.

[Verse 2]
My father taught me how to splice a rope,
My mother how to darn a thread of hope.
But every Allen key and wooden dowel
Is just a syllable in a new vowel
That spells a life I'm learning how to read,
A quiet room to plant a bitter seed.

[Chorus]
And this is my devotion, a service I can start,
To build a home around the missing of its heart.
This is my devotion, a saint of flatpack parts.

[Verse 3]
This whole damn city feels like borrowed thread,
And every seam's unravelling in my head.
I try to hear your voice above the drill,
You said, "It's only wood and wire, love. Be still."
But the beeswax I am using smells of loss,
Of finishing a life you'll never cross.

[Chorus]
And this is my devotion, a service I can start,
To build a home around the missing of its heart.
This is my devotion, a saint of flatpack parts.

[Bridge]
And maybe peace is not a place you find,
But just a room you slowly leave behind.

[Outro]
The instructions say this should take half an hour.
The light is failing on the neighbour's tower.