[INTRO: 1960s Hawaiian lounge, warm clean electric guitar, slack-key flourishes, lap steel, brushed drums, vibraphone, soft organ, relaxed crooning harmonies] midnight feels different when you step outside, like the streetlights are hangin' there just for you to see. like the whole reason you woke up today was to end up right here accidentally. [VERSE 1: gentle lounge continues, spacious arrangement, smiling melody, no distortion] The stores are all closed, but the town ain't dead(oh no), there's a radio playing somewhere up ahead. And for once I don't need to know where this goes, I just wanna keep walkin' while nobody knows. [PRE-CHORUS: bass grows heavier, faint nervous guitar enters] walkin' at midnight, soakin' in the dark, rocks crunchin', leaves blowin'... [CHORUS 1: melodic alt-rock begins bleeding through] where I go, where I go-o-oh. where do I go-o-oh? [VERSE 2: lounge melody remains, guitar roughens, subtle feedback] Somebody comes stumbling out by the steps. Another one follows. Then three, then six. One turns his head and I know that face. Little Tommy Reed from two doors away. Used to ride his bike up and down my street. Oh, Jesus Christ. Tommy's fucking dead(oh, no) [PRE-CHORUS 2: sharper snare, rising distortion] walkin' at midnight, picking up the pace, rocks kicking behind me— oh fuck, not my face— [CHORUS 2: full 90s alternative rock impact] where I go, where I go-o-oh. WHERE DO I GO-O-OH? Aw fuck, why me? Why tonight? Why's everybody dead and trying to take a bite? [VERSE 3: alt-rock dominant, frantic vibraphone, scraping guitars] Now they're spilling from the yards and doors, coming through the alley by the liquor store. Mrs. Parker's dragging one red shoe, and the mailman's dead, He's gaining too(oh, no) So much for taking a peaceful walk. Now I'm sprinting past the fucking coffee shop. Every corner adds another ten. I don't know where I'm going. Just away from them. [PRE-CHORUS 3: frantic drums, lounge melody destabilizing] running at midnight, tearing through the dark, shoes slapping pavement— WHERE THE FUCK DO I START? [CHORUS 3: huge melodic chaos] where I go, where I go-o-oh. WHERE DO I GO-O-OH? No car, no keys, no brilliant plan, just me hauling ass from half the people that I know! [BRIDGE: arrangement breaking apart, stop-start drums, scraping feedback] Gas station's full. Police station too. Then I see the library, brick walls, heavy doors. Never thought I'd thank the town for funding it before. [BREAKDOWN: pounding toms, distorted bass, frantic breathing] Through the side door. Shove the desk. Tables stacked. Do my best. [CRASHING GLASS] Ah, shit. They found me. [FINAL CHORUS: barely controlled melodic chaos, huge guitars, frantic fills, crashing cymbals] WHERE I GO, WHERE I GO-O-OH! GUESS THIS IS WHERE I GO-O-OH! PUBLIC LIBRARY, SECOND FLOOR, FIFTY FUCKING ZOMBIES COMING THROUGH THE DOOR! [OUTRO: total collapse, feedback, broken vibraphone] Broken window. Chair leg swinging. Somebody's arm keeps reaching in. Books on the floor. Glass in my shoe. Tommy Reed's outside. Sorry, kid. Fuck you too. [FINAL IMPACT] WHERE DO I GO-O-OH?! [END: lone vibraphone note, distant pounding, abrupt stop]
