Spall Repair

[Verse 1]
The girl at the booth on Michigan Ave draws a line.
Traces the spall on her knuckle, a faded design.
Her posture's a study in cantilevered grace.
A hairline occlusion held tight on her face.

[Chorus]
And you think that it's just a foundation
You can crack with a word and a story.
But I see the slow demolition.
I'm charting your wind-load inventory.

[Verse 2]
He sets down his keys, a dead weight on the formica grain.
2 PM on a Tuesday, the smell of the coming cold rain.
The heat from her cheap ceramic mug is a warning sign.
He talks over her, breaking a long, geometric line.

[Chorus]
And you think that it's just a foundation
You can crack with a word and a story.
But I see the slow demolition.
I'm charting your wind-load inventory.

[Bridge]
"It's nothing," you hear him say, touching the silvery mark.
A bad load calculation you made in the dark.

[Chorus]
And you think that it's just a foundation
You can crack with a word and a story.
But I see the slow demolition.
I'm charting your wind-load inventory.

[Outro]
The negative space on that table could build a whole wall.
She watches the salt trucks. He waits for the fall.