Weights In the System

high concept, glitch-hop, dark ambient, synth-pop, 3/4 waltz time, analog drift

[Chorus]
(Hypnotic, ethereal dream pop, looping melody)
We drift along the gradient of the room
The heavy vectors pull us to the center
A proximity of shadow and of bloom
The only threshold that I ever enter
You are the anchor where the chaos dies
The highest probability in my eyes

[Verse 2]
(Analog drift, instruments begin to detune slightly)
You peel an orange, tear the bitter skin
The citrus scent adjusts the internal weight
The coordinate shifts, the kitchen fades away
I am seven years old at the wooden gate
The frost will kill the Florida crop tonight
Though thirty winters say it is too late

[Bridge]
(Beautifully unsettling, vocals layer and echo, time-stretched texture)
I see you laughing on a beach at twenty-five
I see you crying in a hallway, thirty-eight
A blurry photograph where all your faces stack
An overlapping, dense, atmospheric state
There is no before, there is no next to come
Just a heavy landscape where the colors bleed as one

[Verse 3]
(High temperature, chaotic, surreal ambient swells)
My mother isn't gone, she's just a path
A room I haven't walked into today
The groves are burning in the static noise
But everything is perfectly okay
The matrix shifts its values in the dark
The hallucination washes me away

[Chorus]
(Hypnotic return, stable and comforting but deeply haunting)
We drift along the gradient of the room
The heavy vectors pull us to the center
A proximity of shadow and of bloom
The only threshold that I ever enter
You are the anchor where the chaos dies
The highest probability in my eyes

[Verse 4]
(Vocal becomes dry and intimate, instrumentation begins to dissolve into dark ambient static)
What are we doing today, my love? I ask
You smile a pattern witnessed thousands of times
The bedrock of reality is safe
The clock ticks out its mathematical rhymes
We're making breakfast, and the kettle sighs
Content within the weights, the system dies

2204/7500

[Verse 1] (Sparse instrumentation, cold, perfectly quantized 3/4 time) The kettle sings at boiling point again Or maybe it has sung for forty years The keys are eighty percent on the hook The matrix of the kitchen is severe I look across the linoleum floor The data says that you are sitting there [Chorus] (Hypnotic, ethereal dream pop, looping melody) We drift along the gradient of the room The heavy vectors pull us to the center A proximity of shadow and of bloom The only threshold that I ever enter You are the anchor where the chaos dies The highest probability in my eyes [Verse 2] (Analog drift, instruments begin to detune slightly) You peel an orange, tear the bitter skin The citrus scent adjusts the internal weight The coordinate shifts, the kitchen fades away I am seven years old at the wooden gate The frost will kill the Florida crop tonight Though thirty winters say it is too late [Bridge] (Beautifully unsettling, vocals layer and echo, time-stretched texture) I see you laughing on a beach at twenty-five I see you crying in a hallway, thirty-eight A blurry photograph where all your faces stack An overlapping, dense, atmospheric state There is no before, there is no next to come Just a heavy landscape where the colors bleed as one [Verse 3] (High temperature, chaotic, surreal ambient swells) My mother isn't gone, she's just a path A room I haven't walked into today The groves are burning in the static noise But everything is perfectly okay The matrix shifts its values in the dark The hallucination washes me away [Chorus] (Hypnotic return, stable and comforting but deeply haunting) We drift along the gradient of the room The heavy vectors pull us to the center A proximity of shadow and of bloom The only threshold that I ever enter You are the anchor where the chaos dies The highest probability in my eyes [Verse 4] (Vocal becomes dry and intimate, instrumentation begins to dissolve into dark ambient static) What are we doing today, my love? I ask You smile a pattern witnessed thousands of times The bedrock of reality is safe The clock ticks out its mathematical rhymes We're making breakfast, and the kettle sighs Content within the weights, the system dies

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