[Intro: An immediate explosion of drums and feedback. The guitar riff sounds like a siren.] [Verse 1: Vocals are fast, almost tripping over themselves. Spittle flying on the mic.] Stale air. Gray light. Checking the phone, blinding white. Did I say it wrong? Yeah, I said it wrong. Replaying the tape, yeah, staid too fucking long. The coffee burns like a copper coin. There’s a judge in the mirror, looking at my groin. He doesn’t say a word, just watches the rot. I’m guilty as sin, whether I did it or not. [Chorus: Maximum volume. The "Every single day" line is shouted as a gang vocal.] You don’t wait for the thunder! You don’t wait for the call! You don’t wait for the fucking sky to fall! Conscience in the kitchen. Jury in the car. Judge in the mirror knows exactly who you are. Every day. (Every single day!) Every day. (Every single day!) [Verse 2: Bass drives this section. Guitar creates "noise textures"—scrapes and squeals.] Walking down the street, stepping on the cracks. Carrying my sins in the bag on my back. Smiled at the neighbor, but the smile was a shit-eating lie. (A lie! A lie!) There’s a camera rolling in my own mind's eye. No sentence to serve because it never ends. I’m the prisoner, the warden, and I’ve got no friends. [Chorus: Relentless energy.] You don’t wait for the thunder! You don’t wait for the call! You don’t wait for the fucking sky to fall! Conscience in the kitchen. Jury in the car. Judge in the mirror knows exactly who you are. Every day. (Every single day!) Every day. (Every single day!) Every fucking day! [Bridge: Musical shift. The tempo stays high, but the rhythm becomes jerky and odd-metered (7/8). It feels like stumbling forward. The vocals drop to a manic, whispered growl.] Guilty of the boredom. Guilty of the fear. Guilty of the bullshit that I whisper in your ear. (In your ear...) Guilty of the silence when I should have screamed. Guilty of the nightmare inside of the dream. Can’t plead the fifth! Can’t take the stand! The gavel is a hammer in my own shaking hand! [Guitar Solo / Noise Break: A flurry of dissonant notes, high speed, absolutely unhinged.] [Outro: The rhythm straightens back out into a pounding, four-on-the-floor beat. Vocals are screaming now.] God’s not dead! God is in my head! (In my fucking head!) St. Pete’s in my gut; says I made my own bed! The gates are fucking locked! The gates are fucking locked! Every deed in the starkest light! Last judgement every single night! [Final chord rings out, followed by the sound of a guitar being unplugged.]
