[Intro: A single, relentlessly happy, out-of-tune vaudeville piano loop. A faint vinyl crackle.] [Vocals are calm, automated, spoken-sung] Program start. Step one: Empty the attic. Step two: Polish the mirrors. [Verse 1: A twitchy, four-on-the-floor drum machine and a staccato, fuzzed-out synth bass kick in. The piano loop locks to the grid. The vocal is bright and percussive.] All my old records, they just sound like static. All my old books, the ink was so smudged and dramatic. All my old photos, the faces are vague, Like a sickness, a fashion, a forgotten plague. I’m making a bonfire with all of the proof, I’m sweeping the cobwebs right off of the roof. [Chorus: A bright, glitchy, stuttering horn section blasts in. Overly-processed, "too perfect" backing vocals join in tight harmony. The mix is loud, bright, and compressed.] Oh, the burden’s finally lifted! (Put the 'me' right on the shelf!) Yeah, my thinking has been shifted! (I’m so much better than myself!) It’s a holiday from doubt, just gotta (shut your mouth!) I’m happy with the help! [Verse 2: The hi-hats get faster. A second, even-more-out-of-tune piano plays a frantic, high-register counter-melody. The vocal is more breathless and excited.] All my old friends, they just brought me their doubt. All my old sadness, like a stain I'm bleaching out. (A chemical solution) My old opinions, they were so boring and loud, I was just one more face in a miserable crowd. Now I'm streamlined, I'm shiny, I'm factory-new, I’m so glad I don't remember you. [Chorus: Full blast. The horns, the piano, the beat. Manic and almost unhinged. The backing vocals are louder.] Oh, the burden’s finally lifted! (Put the 'me' right on the shelf!) Yeah, my thinking has been shifted! (I’m so much better than myself!) It’s a holiday from doubt, just gotta (shut your mouth!) I’m happy with the help! [Bridge (The Checklist): The horns and main piano drop out. It's just the frantic hi-hats and the fuzzed bass. The vocal delivery becomes a rapid-fire, accelerating, spoken-sung list, running out of breath.] The blue shirt. The love notes. The ticket stubs. The doubt. The arguments. The 'why.' The 'how.' The turning around. The attic. The basement. The regret. The keys. The smell of her apartment. The way she used to breathe. The crack in the ceiling. The... the... the... [Glitch (Collapse): Total, abrupt silence. The beat vanishes. The high, sterile, fluorescent hum from "The Walls Are Complicit" fades in. A single, loud, dissonant synth note stabs and holds.] [Vocal is the old narrator—hushed, fragile, terrified, and confused.] ...the... the... what was his name? (whispered) I can't... I can't remember. (a sudden, terrified gasp) ...The concrete... [Final Chorus (Reboot): The full chorus slams back in, but it's broken. The drum machine stutters, off-beat. The horns are playing dissonant, "wrong" notes. The piano is a frantic, atonal cluster of keys. The vocal is a strained, desperate, pained shout.] THE BURDEN'S FINALLY LIFTED! (PUT THE 'ME' RIGHT ON THE SHELF!) MY THINKING HAS BEEN SHIFTED! (I'M SO MUCH BETTER THAN MYSELF!) IT'S A HOLIDAY FROM DOUBT! JUST GOTTA (SHUT YOUR MOUTH!) I'M... HAPPY... WITH... THE... (sound cuts) HELP! [Outro: The chaos cuts instantly. We are left with only the broken vaudeville piano loop from the intro. It plays its flat-noted melody once. The loop "skips," like a broken record, repeating the last two notes... over and over...] [The automated voice returns, calm and neutral] End of program. [The skipping piano loop cuts to black.]
