[Intro] [Six-note descending bass riff alone. Pounding tribal toms enter. Abrasive chorused guitar repeats a narrow two-note figure.] [Verse] [Young male voice, restrained and uneasy] The morning came without a sound The curtains hadn’t moved I washed my face in freezing water Looked around the room The wardrobe, bed, the writing desk The silver on the tray But nowhere could I see myself And no one came all day [Chorus] [Strained melodic male vocal, relentless bass riff] There’s something wrong with this house There’s something wrong with me I count the doors, I count the stairs I count the things I cannot see There’s something wrong with this house I swear I heard it breathe And every road I try to take Comes winding back to me [Instrumental] [Six-note bass riff continues. Guitars scrape in dissonant repeating patterns. Dry toms pound steadily.] [Verse] [More urgent singing, still melodic] He stood behind me yesterday I never heard him come The shaving glass reflected only My own face and the sun I cut my cheek against the blade He caught me by the wrist His fingers tightened at the blood Then suddenly he stopped He smiled and took the glass away And threw it to the ground He said some things were dangerous To keep around the house [Chorus] [Strained rising tenor-baritone] There’s something wrong with this house There’s something wrong with me I count the doors, I count the stairs I count the things I cannot see There’s something wrong with this house I swear I heard it breathe And every road I try to take Comes winding back to me [Instrumental] [Relentless bass and drums. Cold synthesizer holds an unstable high note. A distant damaged reed organ plays four notes, then disappears.] [Bridge] [Voice nearly breaking, close to microphone] I watched him crawl outside the wall His face turned toward the stone His fingers found the cracks between Like something born below I wrote the date I wrote it twice I folded up the page I have no way to send it out [Short instrumental pause] And nothing left to say [Final Chorus] [Full band, increasingly desperate male vocal] There’s something wrong with this house There’s something wrong with me I count the doors, I count the stairs I count the things I cannot see There’s something wrong with this house I swear I heard it breathe And every road I try to take Comes winding back to me [Outro] [Bass riff repeats alone beneath fading tribal drums.] There’s no one in the corridor No footsteps on the floor I know I locked the bedroom So who unlocked the door? [Final bass note. Abrupt silence.] [End]
