Let Me Make You Some Tea [I+AI Cover]

A vaudevillian cabaret-punk piano ballad about radical presence and impermanence, opening with sparse live-room ambiance: creaking stool, breath, and blunt piano chords, The tone is intimate and unfiltered, Verses unfold as spoken-word monologues, theatrical and self-aware, with biting humor and soft sorrow, Piano remains minimal but raw, chords dropped like truths, The chorus swells with louder, cracked vocals and clashing chords—letting the room have it emotionally, The bridge slows into a funeral-waltz moment with rasping vocals before lifting into a bittersweet refrain, Feels like watching yourself age in real time—brutal, beautiful, human

I’d love to one day sit and look out from my balcony, feeling the contented joy of someone greeting the entire world. Welcome, happiness. Welcome, sadness. Welcome, an unexpected guest— let me make you some tea. (Yes, I swear I cleaned the cups this time.) I know we are all here for just a minute, and to enjoy it fully I should welcome it, let it be what it is— so I can be what I am. (Let it be what it is? Who says that kind of thing unless they're absolutely losing it?) Just this minute, I am welcoming a desire to look from the balcony and be content. (Which, let’s be real, usually means I just finished a very bad text conversation. Let it be what it is... Right?) And in this minute I notice how fortunate it is to still be able to see it all, and I am content. And in this minute I notice again how fortunate it is to still be able to see it all— and I am content. I am content. I am content. I am trying... (I'm really trying Oh God, you have no idea) And if contentment had a face, it would probably be a little wrinkled. A little stained. And sipping tea… on a balcony that never actually got finished.

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