COMA Baylox — Candy Colored Coffins [Intro — Dry acoustic guitar pluck. A faint electronic pulse. Close-mic male whisper.] Same four chords. Same four words. Different day. [Distorted guitar slams in, drums stutter, sudden stop] Oh, here we go. [Verse 1 — Tight rhythmic country-rap, gritty Southern drawl, syncopated bass] You got a mouth like a loaded freight train, Running that track till the rails complain. Every little sermon got a familiar ring, Change the damn title, it’s the same old thing. You got a pocket full of wisdom and a borrowed point of view, A hundred ways to tell me what I oughta do. But every time you open up that golden throat, I can hear the next line before you hit the note. [Pre-Chorus — Restrained melodic country vocal, tension rising] And you keep on talking, talking, Like you’re breaking something new. But the only thing that’s breaking Is my concentration listening to you. [Chorus — Explosive drop-tuned guitars, huge melodic hook, raw sustained vibrato] CO-MA! Somebody wake me when it’s over! Same old lines, same old rhyme, Same dead horse getting older! CO-MA! You got the whole damn room sedated! You’re so busy telling everybody how to sing, You forgot to say something worth saying! [Post-Chorus — Stuttering industrial beat, gang-vocal accents] Same verse! Same hook! Same page in a different book! CO-MA! I’m going under! [Verse 2 — Rapid country-rap with offbeat acoustic strums and dirty bass] You got the perfect little formula, polished and clean, A paint-by-number picture of a feeling you’ve seen. Every heartbreak sounds like the one before, Every revelation’s been around the block some more. You say the truth is in the details, better make each word count, Then you pour the same clichés till they’re spilling out. Got a thousand little pointers for somebody else’s art, But a rhyme ain’t worth a nickel if it never had a heart. [Pre-Chorus — Raspy melodic build, pedal steel bending beneath distorted guitar] I don’t need another lecture On the proper way to bleed. If you want to teach originality, Give me something I ain’t seen. [Chorus — Full-band collision, double-tracked vocal] CO-MA! Somebody wake me when it’s over! Same old lines, same old rhyme, Same dead horse getting older! CO-MA! You got the whole damn room sedated! You’re so busy telling everybody how to sing, You forgot to say something worth saying! [Bridge — Beat cuts. Lonely pedal steel. Low spoken country vocal.] I ain’t saying I’m a genius. Hell, I’ve written plenty bad. But at least I try to find a thought I haven’t already had. [Industrial percussion begins ticking faster] And maybe that’s the difference Between a song and something sold. [Whisper] One of ‘em’s got a pulse. [Full-throated scream] THE OTHER’S JUST GETTING OLD! [Breakdown — Crushing half-time nu-metal riff, distorted bass, rhythmic shouted delivery] COPY! PASTE! SAME DAMN TASTE! NEW DISGUISE! SAME OLD FACE! You can dress it up in wisdom, You can call it something grand, But you can’t make a heartbeat Out of lines that never lived! [Final Chorus — Explosive country-rock melody, layered harmonies, soaring high-lonesome bends] CO-MA! Somebody wake me when it’s over! Same old lines, same old rhyme, Same dead horse getting older! CO-MA! I can feel my eyelids fading! You’re so busy telling everybody how to sing, You forgot to say something worth saying! [Outro — All instruments stop except acoustic guitar. Dry, exhausted half-whisper.] Well… That was another one. [Long pause] Wake me when you write a different one. [Hard stop]
