Isoline

[Verse 1]
The hairline crack in the driveway slab from December '98
spells out your name in a language I'm learning way too late.
It branches out like a river delta, a stress-load diagram of grief,
and I trace it with my finger like a map of disbelief.

[Chorus]
And I'm still trying to explain this blueprint in my head.
It's not the life you planned but it's the only one I get.

[Verse 2]
I still smell the coolant on the collar of your old winter coat.
“You got good hands,” you told me once, a knot stuck in my throat.
You were tracing the fence at the Chrysler plant, the steel cold on your skin,
“Don’t waste them on the things that rust from the inside out, Gwidon.”

[Chorus]
And I'm still trying to explain these words I couldn't find
between the factory whistle's scream and the architect's straight line.

[Bridge]
Tonight the slag heaps on the river look like mountain ranges from the moon.
I finally see the beauty in the structures you left too soon.

[Chorus]
And I wish that I could show you the schematics of this sound,
how it holds a roof up, how it's holy ground.

[Outro]
The lunchbox is still on my desk.
It's empty.