Torsion Bar

[Verse 1]
The brass bell of The Turk's Head rings for last orders,
On the dregs of a wet November Tuesday.
The floorboards are sticky with ten thousand spilled sorrows,
But tonight, they're the truest ground I know.

[Chorus]
This ain't no cathedral, this ain't no grand design,
No blueprint for crossing a great divide.
We're just the torsion bar, holding against the strain,
Waiting for the morning tide to come in again.

[Verse 2]
The old man by the fruit machine smells of wet wool and diesel,
He's tracing a crack in the varnish with his thumb.
He grins, "You built ships, son, I just learned to sink 'em."
We both know which one of us is numb.

[Chorus]
This ain't no cathedral, this ain't no grand design,
No blueprint for crossing a great divide.
We're just the torsion bar, holding against the strain,
Waiting for the morning tide to come in again.

[Bridge]
And the waterline stain on a pint of flat stout,
Shows you exactly what the world's taken out.
But in here, the pressure's just noise from the street.

[Outro]
Holding the line.
Holding against the strain.