[Intro: A stuttering sample of a choir—cut up so it sounds rhythmic rather than holy, looping unevenly. The acoustic guitar enters with a frantic, circular riff that feels like it’s missing a beat every fourth measure.] … [Verse 1: The vocals enter quickly, almost stepping on the intro. The phrasing ignores the bar lines, spilling over to create a sense of rushing.] The soup is cold even though the red light says the burner is on. That’s the third time the grid stuttered this morning. I saw the neighbor scraping his name off the door like a stain, he didn't look up. I thought he was painting but the hallway's empty now. I’m counting the cans in the pantry again, marking the days with a red ballpoint pen. [Chorus: The melody lifts, fragile and high. The bass synth swells underneath, creating a warm but unsettling foundation.] Is it paranoia if the pattern holds? The weather's been changing; it's getting cold. If we packed the bags, just to see if they fit— (What do we leave behind?) Hide them under the bed, don't commit. (No one has to know) Just a drill. (Just a drill) Just a Tuesday night... fire drill! [Verse 2: The drums lock into a tighter, more mechanical groove. The vocals drop slightly in register, becoming more conspiratorial.] The radio is smooth, have you noticed the change? It’s been weeks since I heard a song with any range or rage. It’s all major keys and love ballads now, Like some-how the rock stars all left town. My coffee tastes thin, the water tastes like rust, and every surface is gathering dust but you tell me I’m tired, that I need to rest while I am holding our passports tight to my chest! [Bridge: The music drops to a minimal, hypnotic pulse. The vocals become a rhythmic mutter, panning slightly left and right.] Hypothetically. If we took the back road. If we left the phones... Would we take the car? Or is the car a beacon? Passport in the sock. Cash in the lining. Don't look at the window. Don't look at the clock. [Instrumental Break: The acoustic guitar strumming doubles in speed. The synths rise in pitch, creating a "shepard tone" illusion where it feels like the tension is infinitely rising without ever breaking.] [Chorus: The melody lifts, fragile and high. The bass synth swells underneath, creating a warm but unsettling foundation.] Is it paranoia if the pattern holds? The weather's been changing; it's getting awfully cold. If we packed the bags, just to see if they fit— (What do we leave behind?) Hide them under the bed, don't commit. (Leave no trace or sign) Just a drill. (Just a drill!) Just a Tuesday night... fire drill! [Verse 3: High energy. The delivery is breathless. The enjambment is extreme here, lines running fully into the next without pause.] The mail didn't come and the sky is too blue there’s a drone humming low with a perfect view of the garden. They say it’s safer this way but this safety feels heavy, a price that we pay Every day in silence. So if we were to go, would we leave the dishes inside of the sink? (What would the neighbors think?) Make it look like we just stepped outside for a drink? (the kid’s school will be the family’s weakest link) If we’re wrong, we’re just foolish and scared. If we’re right— (We've got to get out of here!) [Outro: The momentum halts abruptly. No crash, just a sudden return to the quiet, circular acoustic guitar riff from the intro. The vocals are hesitant, posing questions into the void.] If we left... Would we leave the lights on? (Make them think we’re home) Would we leave the door unlocked? (Leave the lights on) Would we even make it to the street? (Leave the lights on) (Leave the lights on) Just in case we make it back! [Final sudden silence, cutting off the guitar mid-strum]
