Isobar Lines

[Chorus]
“The air is changing, David.”
I say just let it change.
This isn’t beauty, darling.
This is a measured rage.

[Verse 1]
Your hands are raw with turpentine again,
you whisper from the doorway of the mill.
It’s ten to three, the sky is verdigris,
I tell the dust motes just to hold their still.
The canvas has the pressure of a bruise.
A front is moving in from Cheetham Hill.

[Chorus]
“The air is changing, David.”
I say just let it change.
This isn’t beauty, darling.
This is a measured rage.

[Verse 2]
“They’ll want a price, they’ll want a clever name,”
you trace the window pane, a line of doubt.
I felt my father’s silence in the coming rain.
“Some storms,” I say, “you never weather out.”
He’d see the cobalt here and turn his face,
the same way he just shut the whole world out.

[Bridge]
The barometer drops without a sound.
A low-pressure front stalls in my chest.
The whole room holds its breath before the glass begins to sweat.

[Outro]
So let the air change.
I'm not selling this one yet.