DATUM LINE

[Verse 1]
The DeWalt laser level throws a green line on the rotten wood.
He's sistering a floor joist where the porch swing always stood.
Tuesday, quarter-to-nine, humid August air tastes like jet fuel and pine.
He taps a cedar shim in, trying to get the whole damn thing aligned.
Says the east corner's dropped a full inch, maybe closer to two.
Got a new post anchor, sunk in concrete, something to screw into.
He pulls the spirit level out, checks the bubble, a nervous tic.
Thinks if he can get this one board level, that'll do the trick.

[Chorus]
New wood on the frame, but the ghost is still load-bearing.
He squares it with the Stabila level, past the point of even caring.
But if you change every piece, from the nails to the gable,
Is it the same damn house? Just a ship on a table, ain't stable, ain't level.

[Verse 2]
The phone buzzes on the railing, screen cracked like a pane of ice.
Her text just says, "It looks good," and he has to read it twice.
He remembers the day they built it, the grain on the timber raw.
Now the kudzu from the fenceline is testing structural law.
The whole assembly's in torsion, a slow, imperceptible twist.
A stress he can't account for in the paperwork he missed.
He's tryna find a new static level, a plane he can believe.
But the promise you make ain't the promise you keep, on the level.

[Bridge]
(Instrumental)

[Outro]
The green line flickers off. The foundation was never level.