[Intro] [The sharp, rhythmic sound of a spoon aggressively clinking against the inside of a ceramic mug] [A heavy, dragging acoustic rhythm starts, fighting against a hyper-speed, double-time hip-hop pulse] [Breathless British spoken delivery, rapid, close-mic] Pour the downer. Slow the tracks. I’m tipping. [Verse 1] [The frantic hip-hop pulse pushes the speed, while the guitar strings buzz heavily, acting as friction] [Vocal delivery is a relentless, rapid-fire British rap sprint] Pour another cup, fill the mug to the brim, What wakes the normal world up keeps my lights dim. You take it to run, but my engine is wired In a chemical reverse that is heavy and tired. The caffeine’s a brake pad, a weight on the line, An emergency handbrake for this stomach of mine! I can feel the wheels tipping, I can feel the tilt, A thousand miles an hour on a track that I built. I’m drinking the downer just to anchor the clay, To keep the whole chassis from blowing away! If I don’t slow the gears, if I don’t force the lag, The corners will catch and the metal will drag! [Guitar hits an erratic out-of-tune glitch effect] It’s a neurological anchor, a heavy liquid lead, Trying to steady the stampede inside of my head! [Chorus] [Aggressive indie-rock strum takes over with maximum volume and heavy string noise] [Vocals shift to cracked melodic singing and shouted climaxes] But there’s a pull in the dark, a voice in the sky, That says "Let it derail! Let it lift up and fly!" Ignore the destruction, ignore the impact, Just break all the laws of the chemical pact! Fly into the sun till the engine is gone— Riding the speed from the dusk to the dawn! [Verse 2] [The double-time hip-hop pulse drives forward, guitar rhythm gets increasingly jagged] [Vocal delivery accelerates, matching the manic pull to derail] The neurotypical crowd uses this to ignite, I use it as physics to survive through the night. But the handbrake is smoking, the rubber is torn, And a beautiful, dangerous temptation is born. Why the fuck am I fighting the speed of the sparks? Why am I steering so straight in the dark? Let the wheels leave the iron! Let the balance collapse! Let the pressure valves blow and destroy all the maps! The hyperflow wants me to take off the ground, To leave every boundary and structural bound. The crash is a certainty, the letdown is total, But the view from the cockpit is purely celestial! [Vocal pitch bends down, the internal critic breaks in sharp and vicious] You’re going to shatter! You’re losing control! You’re burning the house down to harvest the coal! Too late for the brakes! Let the steam pipe explode! I’m lifting right off of the face of the road! [Chorus] [Aggressive indie-rock strum swells to a massive, chaotic climax, guitar strings screaming] [Full raw vocal strain, shouting on the verge of tears] Because there’s a pull in the dark, a voice in the sky, That says "Let it derail! Let it lift up and fly!" Ignore the destruction, ignore the impact, Just break all the laws of the chemical pact! Fly into the sun till the engine is gone— Riding the speed from the dusk to the dawn! [Outro] [The hip-hop pulse vanishes instantly. A single acoustic chord vibrates, slowly detuning] [Vocal delivery drops to a bare, shivering, conversational British whisper] I let go of the brake. I can feel the air underneath. [Sudden tape stop effect] [Abrupt silence]
