T.A.R.D.I.S

Art pop, sparse fingerpicked electric guitar with muted kick and isolated hand percussion; stark close-mic production, dry room tone, sudden breath-sized dropouts; frantic, breathless pulse; a few spatially separated female alto voices shifting from breathy singing to urgent spoken-sung phrases

I can't forget the taste of regret Should I ever be repaired? I am out of the tunnel now I am not who I was before I am not even sure I’d like to be that person anymore Sure, given the chance to hop up on a blue magic box I’d rewind time and erase the pain I brought to those I love But still I'd be the only one That could never be repaired Should I ever be repaired? I can't forget the taste of regret I hope to emerge grand from the fire bed

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