Tensile Silence

[Verse 1]
He's tracing the woodgrain on a table at The Marwood,
Tuesday, half-past three, the February rain.
His cup of tea's gone cold beside a copy of The Argus,
Running diagnostics on a very different kind of strain.

[Chorus]
And the tensile strength of silence is a thing you have to learn,
A critical component at the point of no return.
He measures out the damage in the space the words fall through,
Just a hairline fracture running, changing the whole view.

[Verse 2]
She'd be sat right there, her coat still damp, the colour of the sea.
He’d want to talk about the ballast, how it's shifting under him.
"'It's not the weight,' he'd try to say, 'it's how you let it be.'"
But the words rust on his tongue, right at the waterline's brim.

[Chorus]
And the tensile strength of silence is a thing you have to learn,
A critical component at the point of no return.
He measures out the damage in the space the words fall through,
Just a hairline fracture running, changing the whole view.

[Bridge]
Some welds don't take, some metals just fatigue.
You draw the plans up perfectly, but you can't form a league
With the North Sea wind and the slow, corrosive salt.

[Outro]
He leaves a pound coin for the tea.
Walks out onto Ship Street.