A Spot Of Space Time By The Hatter

Male vocals, nature sounds, High quality studio, steeped in Cuckoological C Minor Style: Wonderland Boom-Bap / Teacup Trap, polyphony, weirdcore, turntablism, scratch

[Male // Trickster-low// Carrollian Lilt]

[Male // Trickster// Droll Precision]
[Clock hand plucks, celestial windchime flickers]
Now Time, said the Hatter, was once quite polite—
He’d pour your tea warm and your morning just right.
But Space got involved (as lovers might do),
And tangled the threads in dimensions askew.
So now when you sip, you may trip through a star—
Or fall through a moment that isn't quite are.

[FX: DUBSTEP TEA BREAK – Supernova Pop, Clock Stretch, Gravity Bass Pulse]
!-!-!!!--++!!-!-!!!'''''SPIN'''!++++--!
-!-!!!--++!!-!-!!!'''''light'''!++++--!!
-!-!!!--++!!-!-!!!'''''TEA'''!++++--!!
---

[Mixed Chorus // Wavy Harmony // Elastic Tempo]
[Spinning orb tones, warped harp gliss]
Four little axes, each straight in its place—
Length, height, and depth... and Time in the race.
They twist and they loop like a croquet ball's arc,
Bent by the weight of a Cheshire remark.

---

[Hatter // Manic Mid-High // With Glee]
[Slinky strings, black-hole suck FX]
A second’s a line if you treat it as such,
But wrinkle it once—now it’s more of a crutch!
You see, said the Hatter, with gleeful applause—
Mass tells Space-Time to curve its own laws.
And things on that curve, they can’t help but obey—
Like teacups that orbit then spiral away!

---

[Lewis // Male // Calm, Measured Wonder]
[Ink drip loop, ticking astrolabe tones]
Imagine a grid—one finely laced—
Of moments and motions and vast empty space.
Now drop in a planet—a thought, or a shoe—
The whole thing dips like a jam tart that flew.
And if you were light (in a rather tight suit),
You’d travel that dip like a well-meaning brute.

---

[FX: DUBSTEP TEA BREAK – Supernova Pop, Clock Stretch, Gravity Bass Pulse]
!-!-!!!--++!!-!-!!!'''''SPIN'''!++++--!!
(Tick turns to slip when the curve becomes steep...)
(The March of the Hours takes a quantum leap...)
(Space is the stage and Time writes the play...)
(But neither can stop when the actors disobey.)

---

[Mixed Chorus // Off-Key Elegance // Stretching Cadence]
[Grandfather clock strike, cosmic shimmer]
So dance on the grid with your paradox shoes,
Fall into futures you didn’t quite choose.
The Now is a notion, the Past just a thread—
And Tomorrow’s a cat that naps in your head.

---

[Hatter // Gentle // Slower Pace]
[Ambient strings, faint echo of stars whispering]
Remember: the table is always set wrong—
The sugar moves sideways, the minutes too long.
But lean with your logic, and sip with some grace—
You’ll find even chaos has neatly stitched lace.

---

[End]
(A Spot of Space-Time: a cup that’s not round,
A moment that’s missing, and gravity’s sound.)

2613/7500

[Male // Trickster-low// Carrollian Lilt] [Male // Trickster// Droll Precision] [Clock hand plucks, celestial windchime flickers] Now Time, said the Hatter, was once quite polite— He’d pour your tea warm and your morning just right. But Space got involved (as lovers might do), And tangled the threads in dimensions askew. So now when you sip, you may trip through a star— Or fall through a moment that isn't quite are. [FX: DUBSTEP TEA BREAK – Supernova Pop, Clock Stretch, Gravity Bass Pulse] !-!-!!!--++!!-!-!!!'''''SPIN'''!++++--! -!-!!!--++!!-!-!!!'''''light'''!++++--!! -!-!!!--++!!-!-!!!'''''TEA'''!++++--!! --- [Mixed Chorus // Wavy Harmony // Elastic Tempo] [Spinning orb tones, warped harp gliss] Four little axes, each straight in its place— Length, height, and depth... and Time in the race. They twist and they loop like a croquet ball's arc, Bent by the weight of a Cheshire remark. --- [Hatter // Manic Mid-High // With Glee] [Slinky strings, black-hole suck FX] A second’s a line if you treat it as such, But wrinkle it once—now it’s more of a crutch! You see, said the Hatter, with gleeful applause— Mass tells Space-Time to curve its own laws. And things on that curve, they can’t help but obey— Like teacups that orbit then spiral away! --- [Lewis // Male // Calm, Measured Wonder] [Ink drip loop, ticking astrolabe tones] Imagine a grid—one finely laced— Of moments and motions and vast empty space. Now drop in a planet—a thought, or a shoe— The whole thing dips like a jam tart that flew. And if you were light (in a rather tight suit), You’d travel that dip like a well-meaning brute. --- [FX: DUBSTEP TEA BREAK – Supernova Pop, Clock Stretch, Gravity Bass Pulse] !-!-!!!--++!!-!-!!!'''''SPIN'''!++++--!! (Tick turns to slip when the curve becomes steep...) (The March of the Hours takes a quantum leap...) (Space is the stage and Time writes the play...) (But neither can stop when the actors disobey.) --- [Mixed Chorus // Off-Key Elegance // Stretching Cadence] [Grandfather clock strike, cosmic shimmer] So dance on the grid with your paradox shoes, Fall into futures you didn’t quite choose. The Now is a notion, the Past just a thread— And Tomorrow’s a cat that naps in your head. --- [Hatter // Gentle // Slower Pace] [Ambient strings, faint echo of stars whispering] Remember: the table is always set wrong— The sugar moves sideways, the minutes too long. But lean with your logic, and sip with some grace— You’ll find even chaos has neatly stitched lace. --- [End] (A Spot of Space-Time: a cup that’s not round, A moment that’s missing, and gravity’s sound.)

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