Isotherm

[Verse 1]
I live on the second knuckle of his fretting hand,
A pale ridge of tissue on the promised land.
I feel the damp Allegheny air before he does, you see,
And I tighten when the August humidity hits ninety-three.

[Chorus]
I am the pressure dropping.
I am the sky gone gray.
The little line of lightning
That never goes away.

[Verse 2]
He says I came from a welding spark on a graveyard shift,
But I remember the smell of varnish and a different kind of gift.
I remember the Silvertone splintering on the concrete floor,
And a voice like a slammed screen door sayin', "You won't play that thing no more."

[Spoken-Word Interlude]
(Filtered, distant voice, like a doctor's dictation)
"Hairline fracture to the third metacarpal. Obvious soft-tissue trauma. Patient is... uncooperative regarding the cause of injury."

[Bridge]
And the worst part isn't the shouting or the breaking sound,
It's the dead-calm silence when you look around.
That ozone-heavy quiet, that held-breath, heavy dread,
When the whole world's a low front building in your head.

[Chorus]
I am the pressure dropping.
(I am the sky gone gray.)
The little line of lightning
That never goes away.

[Outro]
Just a silver map... in the coming rain.