[Intro] (Sparse, airy synth pads washing over like fog) (Faint, processed field recording of distant wind, very quiet) (No drums yet) [Verse 1] (Ethereal, breathy vocals - barely there) The sulfur smoke has drifted west. The city finally takes a rest. The broken glass upon the street. Reflects the year that is complete. [Pre-Chorus] (A very subtle, fast arpeggiated synth starts bubbling underneath - the tension begins) It’s quiet now. It’s finally done. The heavy breath before tone one. [Chorus] (The Motorik beat kicks in suddenly - tight, dry, and driving) (Vocals become more layered and slightly vocoded) The relief is cold. The slate is clean. Standing on the edge of a time machine. What’s coming down the wire? What’s waiting in the dawn? The fear of being turned back on. [Verse 2] (The groove is locked in now, bassline is heavy) (Hammond organ swells quietly in the background) The trees are frozen silhouettes. A skyline full of vague regrets. I listen to the winter air. Even the birds are silent there. [Bridge] (Music drops down to just bass and kick drum) (Robotic, monotone vocal delivery) System reboot. Loading future variables. Uncertainty detected. Fear rising. [Chorus] (The Motorik beat kicks in suddenly - tight, dry, and driving) (Vocals become more layered and slightly vocoded) The relief is cold. The slate is clean. Standing on the edge of a time machine. What’s coming down the wire? What’s waiting in the dawn? The fear of being turned back on. [Outro] (Full instrumentation returns, louder and more swirling with delays) It's coming. Whether I'm ready or not. (Repeat "It's coming" while the motorik beat drives relentlessly until a slow fade out)
0/500