Barometric Law

[Verse 1]
The kewpie doll in the Durans' window is facing out on Hueco Street.
End of July, the air's gone that bruised-green color before the heat breaks.
You can feel the pressure drop in your teeth.
Some new system from the east, a coming change.

[Pre-Chorus]
And the new people, the ones from Austin with the solar panels,
they took her out of the glass to 'let her breathe.'

[Chorus]
But they don't know the barometric law.
They don't know what that little plastic doll saw.

[Verse 2]
Remember Tía Lucy, she'd whisper, "Mija, that's a warning."
Her nail-polish smell, the hum of the old Vornado fan.
They painted the door a color called 'Seafoam Morning.'
It looks like nothing that has ever lived on this land.

[Pre-Chorus]
And their contractor parked his F-150
right on the spot where we buried the parakeet.

[Chorus]
But they don't know the barometric law.
They don't know what that little plastic doll saw.

[Bridge]
This isn't just anger, it's a supercell forming.
It's the ozone charge before the lightning cracks.
They can't just buy the deed and paint the ghosts out.
They can't just pull a foundation from its tracks.

[Outro]
Anyway. Just... call me back.
(sound of a phone clicking off, followed by static hum)