[Intro] [Clean, jangly electric guitar riff, slightly out of tune. Minimalist drum beat starts—kick and hi-hat only. Low, humming bassline.] [Verse 1] [Vocal: Breathy, rhythmic, spoken-word style, intimate and cynical.] You say "turn left," and I’m already there A phantom limb hanging in the air I’m checking the clock, I’m checking my pulse While you’re checking the knots, making sure nothing else Interferes with the way my elbows bend I’m your favorite project, your means to an end. [Pre-Chorus] [Music: Bass becomes fuzzier, drums add more fills. Vocal: Increasing grit, building volume, sneering delivery.] And isn't it funny how you call it love? When you're the one pulling from way up above. Yeah, isn't it gracious, the way that you guide? While I’m suffocating on the inside. [Chorus] [Music: Sudden explosion of heavy, distorted fuzz guitars. Massive crashing cymbals. Wall of sound. Vocal: Powerful, raw belting, high-pitched and jagged.] I’M SCREAMING AT THE RAFTERS BUT THE SOUND WON’T BREAK I’M THE MASTER OF A CHOICE I’M NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE! SNAP THE NYLON, TEAR THE WOOD I’D BURN THE STAGE DOWN IF I COULD I’M NOT YOUR DOLL, I’M NOT YOUR GHOST I’M THE ONE WHO HATES YOU THE MOST! [Verse 2] [Music: Sudden drop back to clean guitar and bass. Quiet but tense. Vocal: Low mumble, rhythmic and fast-paced.] You painted the smile, you picked out the shoes You gave me a life I didn’t choose Now I’m twitching in the spotlight, a glitch in the plan Trying to remember how to stand like a man Without the ghost of your fingers on the back of my neck Without waiting for you to give me a check. [Bridge] [Music: Half-time tempo. Melodic, haunting guitar feedback. Vocal: Ethereal, melodic lilt transitioning into a desperate, throat-shredding yell.] (Unbind me... unbind me...) The splinters are deep, the wood is starting to crack There’s no way to put the porcelain back CUT THE CORD. CUT THE CORD! [Guitar Solo] [Music: Messy, aggressive, high-gain bluesy rock solo. Lots of string bends and feedback.] [Chorus] [Music: Maximum intensity. Double-time drums. Vocal: Maximum aggression, screaming the lyrics with emotional pain.] I’M SCREAMING AT THE RAFTERS BUT THE SOUND WON’T BREAK I’M THE MASTER OF A CHOICE I’M NOT ALLOWED TO MAKE! SNAP THE NYLON, TEAR THE WOOD I’D BURN THE STAGE DOWN IF I COULD I’M NOT YOUR DOLL, I’M NOT YOUR GHOST I’M THE ONE WHO HATES YOU THE MOST! [Outro] [Music: Drums stop abruptly. Only a single distorted guitar remains, ringing out. Vocal: Whispered, fading into a dry laugh.] I’m walking on my own now... (Watch me fall, watch me stand) No more strings. No more hands. (Yeah, I’m breaking...)
