White Room Syndrome

[Instrumental intro: 120bpm, ultra-heavy dragging riffs, massive sub-bass, slow resonant drum hits, the sound of a distant dripping faucet] [Intro: Deep, elongated guttural growl, echoing as if in an empty hall] Bleach... Bone... All... alone... [Verse 1: Crushing doom-style palm mutes, funeral-pace double-kick, articulate deep growls] Four corners of nothing, a box made of light No shadows to hide in, no coming of night The smell of the laundry, the hum of the fan The hollowed-out remains of a civilized man I stare at the ceiling until it dissolves The puzzles are gone, and the spirit resolves To drift in the static, to sleep in the glare Breathing the recycled, clinical air [Chorus: Heavy, melodic doom hook, slow driving rhythm, layered gravelly snarls, articulate deep growls] White room syndrome, the pale isolation The final stage of the soul’s purgation No colors to bleed, no sounds to perceive Nothing to lose and nothing to grieve A blank-slate existence, a sterilized cage The end of the book, the end of the page [Verse 2: Slower, "sinking" riffs with dissonant high-neck accents, throaty and weary growls, articulate deep growls] Minutes are hours, and hours are years The silence is ringing inside of my ears I try to remember the taste of the salt But memory is locked in a white-painted vault The doctor comes in like a ghost in the snow He asks how I feel, but I don't really know The "Red Nightmares" are buried under the floor I don't even know what I’m waiting for anymore [Chorus: Heavy, melodic doom hook, slow driving rhythm, layered gravelly snarls, articulate deep growls] White room syndrome, the pale isolation The final stage of the soul’s purgation No colors to bleed, no sounds to perceive Nothing to lose and nothing to grieve A blank-slate existence, a sterilized cage The end of the book, the end of the page [Verse 3: Sudden shift to 90bpm blast beats, chaotic tremolo picking, frantic high-speed vocal delivery, articulate deep growls] The walls are moving! The light is screaming! Is this the waking? Is this the dreaming? The hunger for something! The thirst for a sign! The white is invading the walls of the mind! [Chorus: Heavy, melodic doom hook, slow driving rhythm, layered gravelly snarls, articulate deep growls] White room syndrome, the pale isolation The final stage of the soul’s purgation No colors to bleed, no sounds to perceive Nothing to lose and nothing to grieve A blank-slate existence, a sterilized cage The end of the book, the end of the page [Instrumental solo: Slow, mournful melodic solo with heavy reverb, transitioning into a fast, dissonant neoclassical shred section, ending in feedback] [Verse 4: Heavy, rhythmic breakdown with "heartbeat" pulses, ultra-deep guttural vocals, articulate deep growls] The color... is gone... The white... goes on... And on... and on... [Pre‑Bridge: Accelerating drum rolls, mounting melodic guitar tension, feedback screeching] The silence is loud... The white is a shroud... [Bridge: Maximum speed, technical death metal riffing, overlapping raspy shrieks] BLINDING GLARE! EMPTY STARE! NOTHING IS THERE! NOTHING IS THERE! PURIFY THE SIGHT! DROWN IN THE LIGHT! THE END OF THE SPIRIT! THE END OF THE FIGHT! [Coda: Return to the main slow doom theme, fading into a single, high-pitched sine wave tone] White... Nothing but... White... [Outro: A final, distant "thud" of a heavy door, followed by the hum of an air conditioner, fading into total silence]