[Intro — Old floorboards creak, acoustic guitar plays three uneasy notes, electrical buzzing beneath. Whispered male vocal.] There’s a house in my head. Been living there all my life. [Pause] Somebody found the matches. [Verse 1 — Country-rap, syncopated acoustic picking, dry industrial beat] There’s a crack in the ceiling from a year I can’t place, A door down the hallway with a familiar face. Got a room full of things I was supposed to forget, And a window painted shut that I’m staring through yet. The pyro’s in the basement with a gallon of gas, Says the quickest way forward is to bury the past. But the artist’s upstairs with a pencil behind his ear, Saying, “Give me one good weekend, I’ll fix it in here.” [Pre-Chorus — Pedal steel rises against distorted guitar feedback] One says strike it. One says save it. Both got reasons. Both sound right. And I’m standing in the doorway Trying to make it through the night. [Chorus — Huge melodic nu-metal/country hook, gritty soaring vibrato] There’s a fire in the basement, Fresh paint on the stairs! One of me wants nothing left, The other’s making repairs! I could burn it to the foundation, I could change what hangs on the walls. But the house in my head keeps arguing Over who gets to make the call! [Post-Chorus — Glitch beat, distorted whispered doubles] Burn it down. Paint it white. Burn it down. Hang a light. [Verse 2 — Rapid rhythmic rap, bouncing between guitar and electronic percussion] Got a hallway full of photographs nobody ever framed, Every picture tells a story but the faces rearrange. One room’s painted anger, one room’s painted blue, One’s got a thousand unfinished things I swore that I would do. The pyro says, “You’re wasting time, the wiring’s shot to hell.” The artist says, “I like the cracks, they’ve got a tale to tell.” And I don’t know who’s lying, don’t know who’s being kind, They’ve both been paying rent for years inside this head of mine. [Pre-Chorus — Increasingly strained melodic delivery] One says leave it. One says change it. Both are tired. Neither sleeps. And the things I thought I’d buried Keep on moving underneath. [Chorus — Explosive guitars, melodic country wail] There’s a fire in the basement, Fresh paint on the stairs! One of me wants nothing left, The other’s making repairs! I could burn it to the foundation, I could change what hangs on the walls. But the house in my head keeps arguing Over who gets to make the call! [Bridge — Complete beat drop. Solo acoustic guitar. Two contrasting vocal treatments, one distorted, one intimate.] [Voice A — Distorted, low and furious] Burn the pictures. Break the frame. Leave no evidence Of who became who. [Voice B — Clean, soft, country] Keep the pictures. Change the frame. You can make a different room Without pretending nothing happened. [Voice A — Shouted] THE WHOLE DAMN HOUSE IS ROTTEN! [Voice B — Calm, almost whispered] Then we fix what we can. [Breakdown — Crushing half-time guitars, pounding industrial drums, screamed rhythmic vocal] RIP OUT THE FLOOR! TEAR DOWN THE WALL! IF IT CAN’T HOLD THE WEIGHT, LET THE DAMN THING FALL! [Sudden silence] [Quiet male vocal] But don’t burn the pictures. [Final Chorus — Massive soaring country-rock melody, emotional vibrato, guitars and pedal steel intertwine] There’s a fire in the basement, Fresh paint on the stairs! One of me wants nothing left, The other’s making repairs! Maybe I don’t need a demolition, Maybe I don’t need it all restored. Maybe I can leave some rooms unfinished And still live here anymore. [Outro — Distorted guitars fade, acoustic guitar remains, faint sound of a paintbrush across wood.] The pyro put the matches down. The artist moved his chair. [Softly] Neither one moved out. [Final guitar harmonic, silence]
