[Intro — warped carnival organ, projector clicking, distant machinery] OLD BROADCAST SAMPLE: “Ladies and gentlemen… Please remain in your seats. The management cannot be held responsible for what follows.” [metallic slam] FEMALE — whispered: Pretty little nightmare… Come a little closer. MALE — low growl: Turn the damn machine on. VERSE 1 MALE — snarled Blacktop fever, motor breath, Chrome-plated smile on a face like death. Kick that door, let the bad thing crawl, Got a six-foot shadow on the factory wall. Dead man's radio spits my name, Cheap salvation in a picture frame. Saints get nervous when the lights burn low— I got gasoline rhythm— FEMALE — whisper: And nowhere to go… MALE: HA! PRE-CHORUS FEMALE — mezzo-soprano, seductive clean Come taste the static on my tongue, Hear that dirty engine hum. Every little beautiful lie Looks so much prettier tonight. MALE — underneath: Turn it up… turn it up… FEMALE: Put your hand against the glass— MALE: And watch the freakshow pass! CHORUS BOTH GRINDHOUSE HALO! Black smoke crawling from the radio! GRINDHOUSE HALO! Shake that rust until the whole thing blows! MALE: Kick! Stomp! Drag that beat! FEMALE: Make that wicked rhythm sweet! BOTH: We got dead-end dreams and a midnight soul— Dancing underneath a GRINDHOUSE HALO! [crowd chant] HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY! VERSE 2 FEMALE — dark mezzo-soprano Red-light queen in a roadside shrine, Black mascara and a warning sign. Laugh like thunder, move like smoke, Every pretty promise is another joke. Mechanical angels overhead Sing little love songs for the walking dead. I don't need heaven, I don't need grace— MALE — growled: Just that wicked little smile on your face. FEMALE: Mmm… There you are. PRE-CHORUS MALE — rhythmic snarl Gearbox gospel, piston choir, Every revolution feeds the fire. FEMALE — soaring behind him Come taste the static, feel it rise, See the whole damn carnival through my eyes! MALE: No confession— FEMALE: No control— BOTH: JUST TURN IT UP AND LOSE YOUR SOUL! CHORUS BOTH GRINDHOUSE HALO! Black smoke crawling from the radio! GRINDHOUSE HALO! Shake that rust until the whole thing blows! MALE: Kick! Stomp! Drag that beat! FEMALE: Make that wicked rhythm sweet! BOTH: We got dead-end dreams and a midnight soul— Dancing underneath a GRINDHOUSE HALO! BREAKDOWN [guitars drop into a slow, filthy mechanical groove] [hydraulic hiss — chain drag — distorted laughter] OLD RADIO VOICE: “Attention… Something appears to have escaped backstage.” [silence] FEMALE — whispered: Was it me? [massive guitar hit] MALE: MOVE! Crank that motor! Shake that cage! Feed that monster! Turn the page! FEMALE — increasingly powerful I hear the gears beneath the floor, I hear them scratching at the door… MALE: LET 'EM IN! FEMALE — screamed mezzo belt: LET THE WHOLE DAMN NIGHT BEGIN! BRIDGE FEMALE — haunting clean vocal over industrial pulse I wore a halo made of headlights, Burning through the pouring rain. Every road became a memory, Every pleasure left a stain. MALE — spoken beneath her No destination. No redemption. No tomorrow. FEMALE: Then take my hand— MALE: And follow. FINAL CHORUS [full band erupts; layered crowd vocals] BOTH GRINDHOUSE HALO! Black smoke crawling from the radio! GRINDHOUSE HALO! Let that beautiful disaster roll! MALE: Kick! Stomp! Break that beat! FEMALE: Make the nightmare sound so sweet! BOTH: Dead-end saints with a midnight soul— Raise your hands beneath the GRINDHOUSE HALO! CROWD: HALO! HALO! HALO! HALO! FEMALE — soaring: Ohhhhhh— Turn the lights down low! MALE: ONE MORE TIME! BOTH: GRINDHOUSE HALO! OUTRO [guitars decay into an old projector flutter] FEMALE — intimate whisper: Did you enjoy the show? MALE — distorted radio voice: Doesn't matter. [mechanical click] OLD BROADCAST SAMPLE: “You were never watching the movie…” [tape distortion] “…the movie was watching you.” [projector snaps off] FEMALE — distant: Goodnight, sweetheart. [industrial hum fades to silence]
