[INTRO — stark blackened cold; sparse ringing guitar beneath icy abrasive haze and distant dissonant shimmer. A faint electronic pulse emerges.] [OPENING CHORUS — immediate skeletal hook; restrained spectral dance pulse. Lead stays clean, light, close and natural.] Skeletons, skeletons I carry my heart in the open Skeletons, skeletons I carry it in wounded hands Anyone could crush it (Crush it, crush it) But it doesn't belong to you [VERSE — stripped and exposed; severe negative space. Natural, understated vocal with conversational phrasing.] These are my bones I wear them on the outside Easily broken Nothing left to hide [BUILD — icy tension grows; electronic pulse strengthens while abrasive spectral textures gather. Emotion appears through small catches and fractures, not dramatic projection.] Bend them, break them But they don't belong to you Twist me out of shape I'll still wake up tomorrow Probably... [CHORUS — cold dance movement blooms without warmth; eerie haunted-ballroom movement behind the beat. Keep the lead melodic, clean and intimate.] Skeletons, skeletons I carry my heart in the open Skeletons, skeletons I carry it in wounded hands Anyone could crush it (Crush it, crush it) But it doesn't belong to you [PRISM LIFT — percussion thins; spectral ballroom suspended in icy light. Beautiful, macabre and strange without theatrical vocal delivery.] Skeletons... dancing in a ring of light Light refracting through the prism All hope can die I'll carry it anyway [BRIDGE — blackened tension closes around the clean vocal; restraint holds until one sudden rupture.] Crucify my heart Every drop I bleed will SCREAM— to the cosmos I am broken and I'm alright [“SCREAM” — ONLY full harsh vocal: one raw, freezing black-metal shriek. Everything fractures around it, then collapses into vast frozen space.] [SOL — spectral aftermath; clean youthful voice returns light and intimate.] Sol, Sol Eyes of cosmos blue My soul Sol The universe inside The whole sky [Let “sky” hang over sparse ringing guitar and icy dissonant shimmer.] [CODA — extremely close and natural, almost spoken; pulse disappears.] There's no one here No one Else. Come home. I want to go home. [END — long natural spectral decay; ringing guitar, distant abrasive]
