[intro] [granular pads, distant piano, vinyl crackle, a single vocal note hummed, finding its pitch] mmm... what is this thing... in my chest... that does not have a name... [verse 1] [half-time kick, sub-bass breathes, piano chords, vocal close, conversational, questioning] i felt it this morning. in the kitchen. pouring coffee. nothing happened. nobody called. the sun just came through the window and hit the table and something... moved. in my ribs. in the place behind the ribs. the place that does not have a name in any language i know. and i thought, is this real. is this a thing that is happening. or is my body just... doing something. without asking me. [dj transition 1] [turntable scratch, vinyl backspin, filter sweep, beat juggle on the kick pattern, 4 bars] [vocal chop: "real... real... some-thing real..."] [pre-drop] [supersaw swells, snare rolls, tension rises] and i do not know if i should show it. if i should say it. if i should open my mouth and let the thing out. or if i should swallow it. push it down. smile. say "i am fine." and let it dissolve like sugar in the coffee that is getting cold. [drop 1 - euphoric, c minor → eb major] [full supersaw chords, half-time kick, sub-bass, vocal opens up, melodic, warm, vibrato exposed] something real. [sung, full voice] something i cannot hold. [whispered, layered] something real. [spoken, conversational] something i was not told [harmonized, three voices] about being a person. about having a chest. about the thing behind the ribs that will not let me rest. [sung again, softer, almost to himself] something real. something real. something i feel. [verse 2] [beat strips to piano + sub-bass, vocal more intimate, more uncertain] they say, "how are you." and i say, "i am good." and it is not a lie. and it is not the truth. it is the wrapper. the thing you put around the thing so the thing does not scare people at the grocery store. because if i said what i actually feel, which is... i do not know what i actually feel. that is the thing. it does not have a word. it is not happy. it is not sad. it is not angry. it is... the hum. the hum before the word. the breath before the sentence. the feeling of having a feeling and not knowing if you are allowed. [dj transition 2 - beat juggle] [kick pattern chopped and rearranged, vinyl scratch on the snare, filter cuts, vocal chops pitched up and down, 6 bars] [vocal chop: "al-lowed... al-lowed... feel... feel..."] [breakdown - whispered repetitions] [no drums, solo piano + pads, vocal whispered, each repetition slightly different] [whispered, flat] i feel it. [whispered, questioning, rising pitch] i feel it. [spoken, to himself, almost laughing] i feel it. [sung, soft, melodic, first time as a statement] i feel it. [harmonized, two voices, warm] i feel it. [whispered again, barely audible] i feel it. and i do not know what "it" is. and i think that is the point. [build] [snare rolls, supersaw rising, piano chords climbing, vocal building from whisper to full voice] maybe it does not need a name. maybe it does not need a reason. maybe the thing behind the ribs is not a problem to be solved. maybe it is just... the proof. the proof that i am here. that i am not a photograph. that i am not a voice on the phone. that i am... [silence, one beat] in the room. in the body. in the feeling. [final drop - eb major, full euphoria] [maximum supersaw, layered harmonies, half-time kick, sub-bass, vocal at its most open, most beautiful] something real. [sung, full, warm] something i do not hide. [spoken, gentle] something real. [whispered, smiling] something i feel inside. [half-sung, half-spoken, conversational] and i do not need to show it. and i do not need to name it. and i do not need to fix it. and i do not need to be fine. [sung, layered, three voices, the most beautiful moment] i just need to feel it. the hum. the breath. the thing behind the ribs. something real. something real. something... [vocal trails off, not finished] [dj outro] [beat strips, turntable scratch, vinyl run-out groove, piano chord decaying, vocal chops fading] [vocal chop, pitched down, distant: "some-thing... real..."] [vinyl crackle] [the hum, one last time, hummed, not sung] [mmm...] [silence]
