Porch Light Out

[Verse 1]
Hey, it's me. Ten past nine on a Tuesday in March.
I'm taking the long way down Gravois again, just to watch.
The house still stands on its crooked little patch of the ward,
your new screen door is already coming off of the board.

[Chorus]
And we just paint over the water stains,
pretend the foundation's not groaning with rain.
It’s a quiet kind of giving up the fight,
and dad, the porch light is out again tonight.

[Verse 2]
The air's still thick with the smell of the rain on the asphalt,
and the memory of bitter grounds in your coffee, a fault
in the earth you carried over the sea. I see you there still,
fiddling with a loose hinge on the windowsill.

[Spoken-Word Interlude]
(Sound of a car idling, a weary sigh)
I remember you'd be in the kitchen and mom would just be... humming.
And if I ever asked what was wrong, she'd say...
"'Suti, duso,' I still hear you say."
Hush, dear. Hush.

[Chorus]
And we just paint over the water stains,
pretend the foundation's not groaning with rain.
It’s a quiet kind of giving up the fight,
and dad, the porch light is out again tonight.

[Bridge]
All the careful patching of the cracks in the plaster,
the slow, polite Midwestern family disaster...
And I'm so tired of the draft, the unspoken cost —
(Distorted electric guitar CHORD stabs and holds, raw)
I just want to burn it ALL!

[Outro]
...Anyway. I'm rambling. Sorry.
Just call me back when you get this.