The Cold Turns Scars Purple

[Intro - Power Down] [Command: Abrupt pitch-down tape stop effect, severing of power] [Command: Hollow analog wind, sparse sub-bass heartbeat] [Command: Breathless, uneven spoken word] For the first time... You forced me to unplug. Out on the course. With no machines. And even forget what time it was. [Verse 1 - The Trip] [Command: Dissonant sine waves weaving in and out of phase] [Command: Sprechstimme, erratic pacing shifting between awe and dread] Mementos of this Trip of a Lifetime. A Coming of Age. Coming home to my roots. Scotland. Ireland. Long morning walks to enjoy each Sunrise... and Sunset. Though I forgot to eat. And sleep. [Chorus - The Split] [Command: Harsh jagged square waves, industrial mechanical clanking] [Command: Panning left and right rapidly, schizophrenic mix] I didn't have to be Human Printer! I didn't have to be Human Printer! I look like a hunchback who didn't have time to freshen up. I envy those whose only job is to look pretty. I want that job. I want that job! [Bridge - The Synergy] [Command: Tape flutter, degrading audio quality, melting chords] [Command: Desperate vocal delivery, fracturing into multiple layered delays] We shouldn't have to talk about work all the time. I've always felt like an in-betweener. You have the absolute right to cuss me out when I deserve it. I need to reunite my past self... with my current... Split. [Outro - The Scars] [Command: Absolute sub-zero drone, solitary high-pitch ringing] [Command: Cold, detached whisper] P.S. My hands looked worse in Scotland and Ireland. Because the Cold... Turns the old scars... Purple. Still on the road to recovery. [Command: Sudden hard cut to static, then dead silence] [End]