Ghost-Level

[Verse 1]
The last South Shore train rattles the putty in the window frame.
Sunday, 4 a.m. and you're speaking my name in this cold again.
You check the thermostat, but the chill ain't in the air.
It's the empty space on the mattress, a torque that isn't there.
A phantom limb on the joist, a sag I can't repair.

[Chorus]
This whole damn place ain't level no more.
The spirit bubble's chasing a ghost across the floor.
And I keep trying to shim it, but my hands just ain't that sure.

[Verse 2]
Maya asked me yesterday, 'why your hands shake so bad?'
You try to plane the conversation smooth, say it's from her dad
Working with the big saws, a vibration that just lasts.
But the tremor starts when her hair smells like your shampoo from the past.
A scent that splinters the quiet, a shadow that you cast.

[Chorus]
This whole damn place ain't level no more.
The spirit bubble's chasing a ghost across the floor.
And I keep trying to shim it, but my hands just ain't that sure.

[Bridge]
(whispers, panning left to right)
(It's just tired... just tired... you should rest... nail it down... don't let her see... brace it... brace it...)

[Outro]
You feel for the chalk line in the dark.
Just trying to find the true mark.