[Intro — immediate two-bar groove, no atmospheric buildup; dry drums, springy bass, clipped muted guitar, warm electric piano] [Verse 1 — fully sung; intimate close-mic male baritone; dry, observant, lightly amused; smooth melodic phrasing, no comic overacting] You leave every party at ten. I stay to be liked. You cry in the shower like it's booked in, come out completely fine, and say goodnight. [Verse 1B — same melody, groove slightly more playful; precise diction, restrained smile in the voice] You spent thirty on a bar of soap. I said, "It's soap." You said, "It's nice." We went to bed on opposite sides over hand wash. Twice. [Pre-Chorus — melody rises gently; bass becomes more insistent; fully sung and rhythmically even] We are not getting better. We've had a year to try. We're getting worse together. We're getting worse. Nice try. [Chorus — clear memorable melodic hook; warm bittersweet opening, never anthemic; stretch “fundamentally hopeless” across one flowing phrase] We're fundamentally hopeless. Put it on a page. We'll turn into our parents, we'll get it wrong, we'll age, and then we die. [Chorus Lift — brief pause after “die”; warmer harmony enters; tender rather than sentimental] And in between, the kettle, and your hand, and my head — we're fundamentally hopeless. Come to bed. [Instrumental Turn — short bass-and-guitar figure, groove continues without stopping] [Verse 2 — fully sung on the same melodic frame; less amused, more exposed; no rushed delivery] You want to talk it through at midnight. I want to be asleep and unavailable. You ask me what I'm thinking. I say nothing. And you wait. And you wait. It's unbearable. [Verse 2B — vocal becomes firmer and more intimate; keep the pulse alive] I've been making you smaller so I'd have less to explain. You've been keeping me in the room. Nobody's winning. Nobody's leaving. Not again. [Pre-Chorus — same melodic structure; controlled tension, no dramatic swell] We are not getting better. We never learned to mend. We're getting worse together. It's ten o'clock again. [Chorus — slightly wider harmony and subtle vocal doubles; same restrained lift] We're fundamentally hopeless. Put it on a page. We'll turn into our parents, we'll get it wrong, we'll age, and then we die. [Chorus Lift — brief pause after “die”; intimate warmth, no triumph] And in between, the kettle, and your hand, and my head — we're fundamentally hopeless. Come to bed. [Bridge — fully sung; strip arrangement to bass, dry drums, sparse electric piano and voice; measured, unprotected delivery] I could have stayed safe. Nothing would have started. Nothing would have moved. Nothing would have opened. Nothing would have hurt. [Bridge Turn — almost bare; leave silence between short lines] It's ten. You're standing by the door. You're not asking twice. You never ask twice. [Final Chorus — return of the groove, darker harmony but no bigger volume; emotionally suspended] We're fundamentally hopeless. Put it on the stone. We'll get it wrong, and get it wrong, and then we die alone — [Final Chorus Turn — long deliberate pause after “alone”; “or” enters as a quiet self-correction, not a climax] or in between, the kettle, and your hand, and my head. We're fundamentally hopeless. [Outro — groove becomes slightly more forward-moving; softly sung but decisive; no fade into sadness] It's ten o'clock. I'll get my coat. It's ten o'clock. I'll get my coat. [End — short instrumental button, bass and muted guitar, clean stop]
