[Old Tape Sequence] …But it’s the only road I know. One more fall. One more try. I won’t let this dream pass by. [Old Tape Ends] Funny, huh? Go on. Laugh again. I meant every fucking word. Cheap mic. Weak drums. Guitars blurred into one muddy loop. Same three chords dragging behind the be-e-eat. My voice too high. Too flat. Pushing one note until it broke. You waited for that part. Played it back. Again. Then you sang it back in my voice until the room joined in. I stood there. I let you finish. It was bad. It was cheap. It was real. I meant every fucking word. No clean take. No place to hide. I’d press record again. Years later, you sent me yours. Every hit lined up. Every breath removed. Every word scrubbed clean until nothing could go wrong. Nothing did. You asked me what I thought. I said: It sounds expensive. I couldn’t sing. I couldn’t write. I couldn’t keep the beat. I couldn’t hold the note. I knew. I hit record anyway. You knew what that was. You laughed anyway. That’s why it was funny. Not the mic. Not the drums. Not the note. Me. Trying. Me. Meaning it. That was the joke. Laugh again. Laugh again. Again, again, again! Laugh again. Play it again. Play the worst fucking part. The one where the voice goes flat. The one where the timing falls apart. I meant it. I meant it. I meant it. I meant every fucking word. Yeah. Real fucking funny. You like this, don’t you? Hearing someone try. Hearing them miss. Waiting for the voice to break so you can laugh at that too. Go on. Laugh. But look at me when you do it. Look at me. You fucking - You fucking -
