[Intro - low electrical CRT hum, tape hiss, sparse chorus bass pulse, slow ticking hi-hat] (whispered) Seven days... (soft chuckle) Darling, in modern dating, who even calls anymore? [Verse 1 - brooding bassline, dusty felt guitar arpeggio, intimate warm baritone] I popped the black cassette inside the deck at midnight sharp Watched the burning ring of sunlight carving shadows in the dark The lighthouse on the cliff, the horses drowning in the sea Then the static screen went snowy—and you rang directly to me My friends said: "Burn the tape! You're dead by Tuesday afternoon!" But baby, they don't get the way you illuminate the room Sure, your childhood had some trauma and you spent decades down a well So what if your love language is a metaphysical hell? [Pre-Chorus - building floor tom pulse, rising analog synth swell, accelerating tempo feel] They say that you're a red flag 'cause you leave water on the rug And that twitchy disjoint crawl would make an ordinary coward shrug (rising vocal register) They call it a curse, but they don't understand the craft: You crossed through death just to ensure our schedules overlap! [Chorus - explosive heavy drum groove, wall of chorused guitars, soaring belted vocals] (belted) Give me SEVEN DAYS! Baby, count the hours down! I don't need a ladder, I'll jump head-first into town! (harmonies) Let them call you wicked, let them say you never sleep I bought waterproof sheets for the company you keep! Crawl right through the glass, tear the television wide If my jaw drops dead in terror, it's just love from the inside! (sustain) Seven days... and I'm yours. [Verse 2 - driving rhythmic snare, pulsing synth bass, dry intimate vocal delivery] I spent the weekend vacuuming the moss out of your hair Bought a heated blow-dryer and a vintage rocking chair Your fingernails are splintered from the stones you tried to scale Let me kiss each broken knuckle, let me hold you while you wail I don't mind that you don't speak and only broadcast in white noise I'm an introvert myself, I'm sick of all the party boys And when you contort your limbs at ninety-degree angles, dear It just shows flexibility and presence without fear. [Chorus 2 - full anthemic release, soaring vocal lead with stereo octave stacks] (belted) Give me SEVEN DAYS! Baby, count the hours down! I don't need a ladder, I'll jump head-first into town! (harmonies) Let them call you wicked, let them say you never sleep I bought waterproof sheets for the company you keep! Crawl right through the glass, tear the television wide If my jaw drops dead in terror, it's just love from the inside! [Bridge - sudden drop to heavy half-time drums, industrial crunch, raw passionate vocal build] (whispered over sub-bass rumble) Day six... the clock is ticking down to zero. (building to a shout) They told me there's an antidote, a trick to break the spell: You only live if you copy the tape and send someone else to hell! Well, pack your bags, my sweet Samara, watch my VCR glow— I bought a dual-deck recorder at the thrift shop down below! (screamed belt) I'M NOT MAKING JUST ONE COPY! I'M DUPLICATING THOUSANDS MORE! I'LL PUT YOU ON EVERY SCREEN UNTIL THE WHOLE WORLD FEELS YOUR ROAR! YOU WANTED TO BE HEARD? THEN BABY, YOU ARE GOING ON TOUR! [Guitar Solo - screaming melancholic bends, weeping feedback, tape-delay repeats] [Chorus 3 - peak explosive climax, full gospel-style backing vocal stack, maximum emotional intensity] (belted with grit) SEVEN DAYS! AND WE'RE LIVING IN THE STATIC! YOU'RE NOT A CURSE, YOU'RE A ROMANTIC PSYCHOPATHIC! (layered harmonies) Break the tube! Spill the water on the floor! You don't need the bottom of that lonely well no more! Look into my eyes, let my heart go into freeze I'll die smiling in your arms down on my bended knees! [Outro - decrescendo, dying synth pulse, slow ticking clock slowing down, dripping water] (whispered close to the mic) Day seven. The television's turning on... Don't worry, honey. (click of tape inserting) I pressed record. (sound of VHS rewind tape whirring) (dial tone) [Hard Stop]
