[Intro 1-8] [style: electroacoustic minimalism, musique concrète, subterranean chamber-folk] [genre: avant-folk, experimental ambient, sound-art] [tempo: 116 BPM, strict 7/8 time signature grouped 2+2+3] [mix: claustrophobic, bone-dry close-mic foley, wide binaural stereo field, no reverb] [layer 2: dry prepared acoustic guitar with rubber mute at bridge; repetitive 7/8 arpeggio D-A-E-A-C-A-G; transient metallic radiator pipe clicks locked to beats 1 and 5] [layer 3: asymmetric left-right panning of granular linen rustle, creaking bedframe, and pitch-shifted breath fragments tuned to high A4 and E5] [vocals: none, strictly instrumental] [dynamics: pianissimo, tense, hypnotic pulse for 8 bars] [Intro 2-8] [style: dark chamber-folk, minimalist drone, cinematic art-pop] [genre: modern classical, avant-garde chamber music, experimental folk] [sfx: sharp physical... Ha, The radiator ticks, ha The filament clicks, ah-ah Hollow the sleeves, hollow the knees Dancing in place where there isn't a breeze Suns made of paper, a halo of wire Pinned to the mattress and baptized in fire The ghosts on the hangers are waiting for skin While the monolith watches the state I am in Oh, blinding and beige is the sky overhead A theater built at the foot of the bed The radiator ticks, ah-ah The filament clicks, ah-ah The radiator ticks, ah-ah The filament clicks, ah-ah The radiator ticks, ah-ah The filament clicks, ah-ah The radiator ticks, ah-ah The filament clicks, ah-ah Hollow the sleeves, hollow the knees Dancing in place where there isn't a breeze Hollow the sleeves, hollow the knees Dancing in place where there isn't a breeze Ah-ah Ah-ah Ah-ah Count all the seams in the plaster above Crooked geometry, painted in chalk Three silver crescents on doors painted black Holding the weight of the words we hold back Linen and cotton, suspended on hooks Dressed for a morning that refuses to come Iron ribs humming down there in the corner Keeping the pulse while the rest of me's numb Waiting for skin Halo of wire
