[Verse 1] I step into the lobby of this afternoon, skin already over-capacity. Your grin dangles on the coat rack; I snag it, pretend it’s custom fit. The elevator smells like burnt film stock and somebody’s incense ambitions. I’m dripping with secondhand moods before the doors even close. [Instrumental Interlude] [Microtonal banjo, restless fiddle, detuned acoustic guitar, modular blips] [Pre-Chorus] I keep a ledger: who I felt like, how long it lasted, interest rates on borrowed nerve. The numbers rewrite themselves every time someone laughs too loudly. [Instrumental Interlude] [Toy piano motif, bowed violin harmonics, stuttering bass pedal] [Chorus] Am I a person or an open-source costume? You scroll through me, click-drag a personality, press install. The interface jitters; I stutter in seven fonts at once. If I hit the emergency reboot, will anything load except a holding pattern? [Instrumental Interlude] [Brushed drums widen into toms; jangly guitar and fiddle trade fractured phrases] [Verse 2] The crowd outside is a buffet of emotional leftovers. I sample indignation, drizzle on a light fear vinaigrette, chase it with your excitement shot. A traffic light coughs up déjà vu; pedestrians wobble like inflatable sky dancers. I lose track of which laugh originally belonged to me—or if any ever did. [Instrumental Interlude] [Swung acoustic groove, banjo harmonics, glitch cuts, bass drone] [Pre-Chorus 2] My lung capacity is now measured in unsolicited feelings per minute. Someone sneezes regret down the block; I’m already wearing it like cologne. [Instrumental Interlude] [Female falsetto wordless counterline, violin tremolo, toy piano, tape reverse] [Bridge] CITY dissolves into handdrawn storyboards, margins scribbled by a sleep deprived cartoonist. I trade my face for an unlicensed emoji, then swap that for a vacant lot. The vacant lot hums: (You’re still renting every heartbeat on credit.) I shrug, because shrugging is free, then tip the lot for its honesty. [Instrumental Interlude] [Long post-rock swell: bowed strings, tremolo electric guitar, modular noise, rising drums] [Chorus–Extended] The costume crashes; I blue-screen in public. Passers-by knit new expressions for me out of gossip and caffeine. Once again I’m up and running, patched with duct-taped goodwill. Is this survival, performance art, or a glitch tourism visa? [Instrumental Interlude] [Full band release, fractured vocal samples, banjo and electric guitar in counterpoint] [Outro] I peel off tonight’s emotions, hang them beside the sink. Mirror refuses loyalty, cycling through stranger after stranger. Underneath, there’s a pulsing blank—warm, undefined, mercifully silent. I practice breathing without subtitles, just to see if the lungs sign my name. [Instrumental Interlude] [Sparse detuned guitar, bowed fiddle, soft synth pulse, fading room tone] [End]
