[68 BPM] | [Chamber Folk] | [D major] [Mood: Drowsy] [Energy: Low] [Intro | solo nylon guitar fingerpicking slow | cello entering restless and fast above it | no percussion] [Verse 1 | close half-spoken tenor, behind the beat, effortless | nylon guitar unhurried | cello darting above] The blinds are down at noon and drawn again by three, The mind slows down and soon there's nothing left in me, A fan that moves the same warm nothing in a ring, A hand that proves there's no use moving anything, I had a plan. I had a list. It's on the floor. I had the whole of it in hand. I don't anymore. [Pre-Chorus | cello sagging into a long flat sustained note | guitar unchanged] It isn't tired. Tired you can beat. [Chorus | cello climbing fast and falling back without arriving | guitar refusing to speed up | voice opening slightly | Energy: Low] It's a wall and it's holding me down, It's the whole of the town going slow, Every window in the county open wide — And there's nowhere for the heat to go. [Verse 2 | cello restless again | guitar identical | vocal flat and unhurried] The dog has found the tile and hasn't moved since ten, The clock has found a mile it walks and back again, The kettle's out of use, the stove's a thing I fear, The settled kind of loose that comes and stays all year, And I have been indoors so long I've lost the count — And out beyond the door it's worse. So here's the house. [Pre-Chorus | cello sagging | guitar unchanged] It isn't tired. Tired you can beat. [Chorus | cello climbing and falling back | Energy: Low] It's a wall and it's holding me down, It's the whole of the town going slow, Every window in the county open wide — And there's nowhere for the heat to go. [Instrumental | cello alone, fast and agitated, running upward and collapsing back into flat sustained notes | nylon guitar underneath at exactly the same pace as before | brushed drums entering faintly for the first time | Energy: Low] [Verse 3 | guitar sparse | cello slower and lower | vocal closest and most exposed | brushed drums faint] They lived here in the eighteen-hundreds. God knows how. They rigged a sheet, they dug a cellar, waited out the year, They kept a cloth around the neck and slept out on the porch, And every summer somebody was carried from the field, And nobody was tougher. Nobody was made of more. They just had no other option. And they went and did the work. [Pre-Chorus | cello sagging longest yet | guitar unchanged] It isn't tired. And it isn't going anywhere. [Final Chorus | cello at its most agitated | guitar identical to the first bar of the song | brushed drums steady | Energy: Low] It's a wall and it's holding me down, It's the whole of the town going slow, Every window in the county open wide — And there's nowhere for the heat to go. [Outro | cello falling away first | nylon guitar alone at the same unchanged pace | long decay] And there's nowhere for the heat to go.
