Anhydrous Grace

[Verse 1]
The Föhn wind shook the geranium box
On the sill above the Gerbiplatz.
The air had a charge, a crystalline hum,
You traced the isobars on your thumb.

[Chorus]
And in that pressure, a kind of grace,
This holy resonance, this time, this place.

[Verse 2]
The smell of dry pine from the Schabziger Stöckli,
That last May evening, quarter-to-nine.
"The Linth will run clear tomorrow," you said.
You laid your whole faith on that faultless line.

[Chorus]
And in that pressure, a kind of grace,
This holy resonance, this time, this place.

[Bridge]
A plate shifts somewhere, miles below the stone.
A future already etched into bone.

[Chorus]
And in that pressure, a kind of grace,
This holy resonance, this time, this place.

[Outro]
This time, this place.
This resonance.