The Constant Warp

[Verse 1]
(Spoken, hushed and close)
The left sleeve of your old Filson jacket is more patch than waxed canvas now.
It smells like my woodsmoke from the stove, not your Old Spice from the bottle by the sink.
I run my thumb over a darned-over hole from a snag on the ferry ramp that spring.
If I replaced every thread, one by one, would the warmth still be yours?

[Chorus]
(Sung, clear and open)
But I still see the pattern, I still feel the pull
A faith in the fabric, indivisible
My love is the constant warp on the loom
Stretched out for whatever shuttle is coming through

[Verse 2]
(Spoken, a little more rhythmic)
I was dusting your old mixing board last week, the faders frozen at zero.
"The take is the take," you'd always say, sanding a guitar neck down to the bone.
You smoothed the rough stuff, revealed the lines, never thought about the dust you made.
Now the callus on your thumb is soft as moss and you just watch the tide come in.

[Chorus]
(Sung, fuller now, with subtle piano)
And I still see the pattern, I still feel the pull
A faith in the fabric, indivisible
My love is the constant warp on the loom
Stretched out for whatever shuttle is coming through

[Bridge]
(Sung, voice breaking slightly)
This '68 Martin you sent up
Has been breathing my salt air for seven years now
Does it still remember your hands?
Or is it just a new ship with an old name?

[Chorus]
(Sung, full arrangement with layered harmonies and a new countermelody soaring above)
I still see the pattern, I still feel the pull!
A faith in the fabric, indivisible!
My love is the constant warp on the loom!
Stretched out for whatever shuttle is coming through!

[Outro]
(Spoken, whispered)
I just keep darning the holes.