[Intro — no drums. Rhodes only, tape delay eating its own tail. Someone exhales long. A lighter clicks twice, doesn't catch.] (hhhhhhh...) ...okay so ...okay (soft laugh) ...no, wait. Wait. [Verse 1 — mumbled, low chest, words melting into each other, pauses in the wrong places. Kick enters late and soft, like it's underwater.] The ceiling is doing something and I'm not gonna say what. The fan's been turning left the whole time, or the room has. I put my hand up — the hand arrived later. Somebody's grandmother is humming in the wall, she's been at it since Tuesday, she's very good at it. I think I stood up. I'm gonna check. ... (nah) The vibraphone's flat. The vibraphone knows it's flat. It's doing it on purpose and I respect that. [Hook — sung half a step under, sliding into the note instead of hitting it, doubled loose and out of phase] Slooooow, slow like the water forgot, slooooow, I'll get there, I'm already there, sloooow... (mmmmm) [Verse 2 — smeared hats enter. Sub slides into every note. One chop is a quartertone off and stays off.] Time went sideways around bar nine and nobody filed a report. I was in the middle of a thought — it's still in there, it's fine, it's keeping warm. My tongue is a rented tongue. The consonants come out soft like they've been in a pocket. There's a sound I can't find and it's coming from my own chest, I think it's just... the machine part. The one that keeps me. (long pause) ...what was I — oh. Right. The ceiling. Yeah. Still doing it. [Break — voice gone. Reversed harp stretched 400%, tape delay self-oscillating into a howl, then someone turns the knob down by hand mid-howl.] (wwwwwooooo—) (...aaaahh) (click) [Verse 3 — closest, quietest, most honest. Breath louder than words. Drums thin out to just kick and one hat.] I keep meeting the same four seconds like they're a person. Hello. Hello. Hello. Hello. The hiss is breathing with me — that's not a metaphor, listen, it goes up when I go up. I have never been this far inside a room. The duvet on the window is the only thing between me and Tuesday. I'd tell you what it means but the meaning went out for something and it hasn't — (soft laugh) ...it hasn't. [Hook — slower, dragging, tempo audibly sagging, tape wobbling] Slooooow, slow like the water forgot, slooooow, I'll get there, I'm already — (mmmm) sloooooow... [Outro — everything decays except the Rhodes and the delay. Tempo has dropped to 59 and nobody fixes it. Voice off-axis, almost inaudible.] ...the fan's still going left. ...good. (hhhhhhh) (tape stops mid-chord)
