[Intro] [Clean spoken word, nervous, twitchy, quiet room ambiance] My fingernails are too short. They’re never short enough. [Sudden explosion of chaotic, math-rock guitar tapping] [Verse 1] [Frantic, spoken-yelling vocals, rapid-fire cadence] Underneath the sleeves, beneath the sweater, nobody looks close enough to see the weather A storm front sitting right beneath the epidermis, itching like a parasite, begging for a service! I scratch to find the outline of a soul that feels like mine, Dragging crescents through the canvas, crossing every single line! [Chorus] [Explosive, raw, chaotic screamo vocals, maximum distortion] CLAW! TEAR! MAKE THE SURFACE BLEED! It’s the only way to quiet down the things I cannot read! RED NAILS, RENDERED FLESH, PEEL IT BACK AGAIN! When the skin is just a prison, tell me where does the body end?! [Verse 2] [Desperate, erratic tempo shifts, shifting between spoken whining and harsh screams] It starts as a tickle, a phantom vibration, a microscopic itch of pure isolation So I press in harder, crescent moon impressions, carving out the panic from a dozen old obsessions My hands are shaking, why won't they stop shaking? The barrier is thin and the foundation is breaking—! [Bridge] [Music drops out to a lonely, dissonant guitar arpeggio and heavy breathing. Vocals are spoken, trembling, extremely close to the mic.] Look at what you did. Look at what your hands are doing. You’re hunting for ghosts in a graveyard you built. Do you feel clean yet? Does the blood taste like relief? Or is it just more guilt? [Scream building up from a whisper] *MORE GUILT! MORE GUILT! MORE GUILT!* [Guitar Solo] [Chaotic, high-pitched tapping, erratic rhythm changes, intense math-rock breakdown] [Outro] [Descending heavy chords, fading into ragged breathing and skin scratching sounds] Just a little deeper. Just a little more. Leave the pieces on the floor. [Single heavy chord, sudden abrupt cut]
