SOIL REPORT

[Verse 1]
The hairline crack in the driveway concrete by the azalea bush,
October 2026, it'll be a fissure, watch the way the aggregate push.
This is a courtesy call from the prior contractor, a civic duty.
That porch swing you installed has a non-compliant load capacity, truly.
I know the inspector signed off, I know the paint looks fresh, I know the grade.
I drew the blueprints for the trap you think you landscaped, the foundation I laid.
The water table's high here, the humidity's a constant, silent thief.
The sound of that Delta 747 overhead is your only relief.

[Chorus]
Same fault line, same ground, same god.
Same tensile weakness in the iron rod.
Same prayer whispered when the drywall pops.
It's a controlled demolition, it never stops.

[Verse 2]
Tuesday, 3 A.M., you'll feel the house shift, a percussive shudder.
She'll roll over, mumble something 'bout the storm drain or the gutter.
She'll say, "It's not a big deal, we can patch it," when the subfloor starts to bow.
I heard that exact line in this exact room, I can hear it even now.
That jasmine smell from the yard, it gets in through the vents, smells like a funeral wreath.
The GE circuit breaker in the basement's got a hum that'll grind your teeth.
This ain't a threat, it's just a soil report, a forecast for the coming corrosion.
A pre-emptive eulogy for the next inevitable implosion.

[Chorus]
Same fault line, same ground, same god.
Same tensile weakness in the iron rod.
Same prayer whispered when the drywall pops.
It's a controlled demolition, it never stops.

[Bridge]
(Beat switches to a sparse, atmospheric texture with chorus-drenched guitar)
This is the part where the kudzu vines start to pull on the siding.
This is the part where there's nowhere left for the stress fractures to keep hiding.
Brother, I'm not your ghost. I'm just the city planner of this specific ruin.

[Outro]
Good luck with the new build.
The ground here is poison.