[Intro: A solitary, heavy boot stomp on a wooden floor, four on the floor. An upright bass string is violently snapped back against the fretboard, establishing a menacing, syncopated groove.] [Verse 1: The vocals enter, gritty and spoken-sung directly on the beat. The piano plinks a single, dissonant high note every other measure.] My father handed down a fifty-acre chest. (Fifty acres) Said to plant the love and let the weather do the rest. But the plow goes deeper every time we have a fight. We scrape the patience raw, we scrape it white. (Scrape it white) You keep looking for the green to start to grow, But there’s no nitrogen left in the blood below. (Nothing below) [Pre-Chorus: The piano starts playing block chords rhythmically with the boot stomp. The vocals rise in pitch and desperation.] We took the harvest but we never fed the ground. Now the wind is picking up that howling sound. (That howling sound) You ask me for a shelter that I just can't build. [Chorus: The bass begins a frantic, walking line. The vocals push into a hoarse, cathartic yell. The piano pounds a minor chord.] We are down to the bedrock! (Bedrock!) We are down to the stone! (To the stone!) You can’t grow a future on a dried-out bone. The topsoil is gone. (Gone) The topsoil is gone. (Gone) Blew it all away. Blew it all away. [Verse 2: Sudden drop in volume. Just the upright bass and a whispered, breathless vocal. The piano disappears completely.] I check the ledger and the deficit is deep. (So deep) I traded all my empathy just to get to sleep. You want the root to hold when the panic starts to rain, But the dirt is just a powder in the center of the brain. (Center of the brain) There is nothing left to hold the water in. There is nothing left beneath the skin. (Beneath the skin) [Pre-Chorus: The piano slams back in, louder this time. The boot stomp doubles in tempo.] We took the harvest but we never fed the ground. Now the wind is picking up that howling sound. (That howling sound) You ask me for a shelter that I just can't build. [Chorus: Maximum volume. Total rhythmic chaos between the bass, the piano, and the boot stomp.] We are down to the bedrock! (Bedrock!) We are down to the stone! (To the stone!) You can’t grow a future on a dried-out bone. The topsoil is gone. (Gone) The topsoil is gone. (Gone) Blew it all away. Blew it all away. [Instrumental Rupture: The vocals drop out into a ragged gasp. The piano player begins to violently mash dissonant clusters of keys on the low end. The upright bass player bows the strings aggressively, creating a screeching, metallic wail. It sounds like a psychological tornado tearing through the room. This lasts for four chaotic, terrifying bars.] [Outro: The noise stops instantly. A one-second pause of absolute dead air. Then, just the slow, steady boot stomp returns. The vocals are exhausted, murmuring.] Just dust. (Just dust) In the mouth. (In the mouth) Nothing left to give. [The boot stomps one final time and rings out into silence.]
