Isoline Trace

[Verse 1]
You see that pale white arc above your left thumb,
the lip of a Vernors bottle, November '21.
A bassline vibrated up through the concrete pier,
a structural report on the state of your fear.

[Pre-Chorus]
Her motion was a study in sheer torsion,
a perfect parabola in a one-point distortion.

[Chorus]
It's just an isoline trace on your skin,
a blueprint of the moment the physics kicked in.
A load-bearing memory where the story begins.

[Verse 2]
You diagram the way her jacket caught the strobe,
the subtle engineering of her right earlobe.
She caught you sketching angles on a napkin, then she laughed,
and said "It's just a dance floor, not a final draft."

[Pre-Chorus]
Her gravity was warping the grid of the room,
a tensile failure in the Saturday gloom.

[Chorus]
It's just an isoline trace on your skin,
a blueprint of the moment the physics kicked in.
A load-bearing memory where the story begins.

[Bridge]
(Whispered voices as percussion: a fault line, a fault line, a fine line, a fault line…)
The night air smelled of steel and river ice outside.
Now that mark's the only proof you were alive.

[Outro]
A permanent schematic.
The geometry of static.