Corpus Call

[Verse 1]
The Woolies self-serve sings its three sad notes.
You trace the new crack in your phone screen's face.
The last of the southerly whips at your coat
as you map the grid of this borrowed space.

[Chorus]
You can feel it now, a phantom pulse
(A memory forming in real time)
Every single beat is a ghost you'll hold
(A signal crossing a fault line)

[Verse 2]
The goon sack sweats on the Marrickville tile.
"We'll laugh about this," you lie with a grin.
You hold the cold glass for a little while,
let the 2:40 freight train vibration sink in.

[Chorus]
You can feel it now, a phantom pulse
(A memory forming in real time)
Every single beat is a ghost you'll hold
(A signal crossing a fault line)

[Bridge]
This is the scar tissue, before the scar.
This is the echo you're hearing in advance.

[Outro]
A phantom pulse…
(In real time…)