Terminal Lease

[Verse 1]
The Irving gas sign paints a red stripe on the floor
where the sofa used to be. It's August, and the door
is propped open with a brick we found by the shore.
The sound of the tape gun is the only score.

[Chorus]
This isn't a seam, it's a fault line
And the packing tape is a temporary shrine
To a floorplan that we both tried to make align
Against the grain of time.

[Verse 2]
A hairline fracture runs up from the window frame.
I know its shape, I could trace it in the rain.
"You're leaving the good glasses?" you ask, soft as a plane
shaving cedar, and I can't explain.

[Chorus]
This isn't a seam, it's a fault line
And the packing tape is a temporary shrine
To a floorplan that we both tried to make align
Against the grain of time.

[Bridge]
Remember that first week? The walls were bone.
We mitered every corner, a keystone
we thought we'd set forever. A tone
of spruce on the air.

[Outro]
I've got the last box. My hand's on the knob.
And I almost turn around to say—