[Intro: Full chaos. The song opens with all instruments at 10. A wall of noise. The live drums are a frantic, crashing mess over the rigid, pulsing synth bass and machine beat. A wailing synth lead cuts through the noise. The vocal is strained, fighting to be heard.] … [Verse 1: Spoken-sung, breathless, tumbling over the beat. a sense of panic.] The coffee in the plastic cup is cold The anchor’s practiced frown He’s telling me a story I’ve been told He’s shouting me back down He said the sky was ‘official grey’ He said the streets were 'filled with rage' I saw my face on the flickering screen I saw my picture, fit the frame. [Verse 2: Still frantic. percussive, like static.] They made a giant from a single frame They taught the static to speak my name A broken window becomes the sun The only story is the one That runs in place, a burning track A painted devil for the attack It’s just a shadow, a trick of smoke And every word a rib that broke. [Refrain 1: SONIC CLIFF. All instrumentation cuts out violently. Only a low, humming synth pad remains. The vocal is a sudden, dry, close-mic'd whisper, full of doubt. Heavy sibilance.] [hushed] Did I see what I saw? Or just the shadow on the wall? [Verse 3: We are in the cell. The sound is sterile, cold. Only the rigid TR-707 beat and the clean, pulsing synth bass. The vocal is a dry whisper, rhythmic.] [whispering] The smell of bleach and body heat The taste of tinfoil in my teeth The ink still black beneath my nails A number on a plastic tag The silence humming like a wire My own name started to sound like a lie The edges here are hard and clean The hollow spaces in-between The clock's a joke, a pointless gear It's been an hour, it's been a year. [Refrain 2: VIOLENT CUT. The first line is delivered in TOTAL SILENCE. The synth pad hums back in on the second line. The vocal is fragile, trembling.] [total silence] Did I see what I saw? [synth hum returns] Or just the shadow on the wall? [Verse 4: The 'truth'. The cold electronics vanish. We're left with the warm, anthemic cathedral organ, the live, loose-limbed drums, and the tremolo guitar. The vocal is clear, earnest, almost naive, and more melodic.] [earnest, sung] The cardboard signs like paper shields The painted faces in the sun The sound of kettle drums, a rising beat The feeling we were one A carnival of sound and light No, it was just a Tuesday night We thought the street belonged to us (We thought the street belonged to us) [Outro: The warm 'street' music continues. The tremolo guitar gets more nervous. The vocal delivery of the refrain changes: it's no longer a question of self-doubt, but a defiant accusation aimed at the listener.] [stronger, sung] Did I see what I saw? [The live drums build] Or just the shadow on the wall? [Repeat refrain, same defiant delivery. The organ swells.] Did I see what I saw? [A long pause. The tremolo guitar is the only thing moving.] Or just the shadow on the wall? [The warm organ chord sustains, the tremolo guitar continues, and it all slowly fades, not to static, but to a clean, empty silence.]
