[Intro: Fast, syncopated acoustic fingerpicking starts solo. A second guitar joins after four bars, playing a bright, shimmering arpeggio. A dry kick drum maintains a steady, driving thump.] [Verse 1: Snappy, rhythmic delivery. The guitars are percussive, hitting hard on the downbeats. The vocal is close, dry, and painfully earnest.] I followed Mary through the late summer heat. I got nervous every time we would meet. Down to the stream where I’d make her mine, She smelled of vanilla and her kiss was divine. I whispered to her, said the things kids say, She looked at me bored and then walked away. Oh, just walked away. Saw her later with some college guy Looked like a jerk, but she had swallowed the lie. I bet he butchered some Camoo as he tuned up his G, Played a terrible song as he took her from me. I watched as she climbed into his rusted-out van, And cursed the whole world while my angel left with another man. [Chorus: The rhythm explodes open. The drums switch to a massive, driving beat, and a Hammond organ swells in the background. The vocal shifts from conversational to a full-throated, desperate belt.] There is no truth in beauty! No salvation in a silhouette! I know the water's poison, I know the well is dry, There is no truth in beauty— But I choose the lie every time! I choose the lie every time… Every time! Every time! [Verse 2: The massive instrumentation drops away instantly, slamming the listener back into the claustrophobic, galloping acoustic groove.] Junior year in a humid, oppressive November, The curve of Camille is the only detail I remember. Carried her books through the college quad, stunned she chose me; could have chosen a god. While I was asleep, she was turning the brass of the lock, I thought she was studying or taking a walk. One day found a note: her professor; a heart in red ink, I shouted and cried; a man on the brink. She just needed a bed and just needed a grade With a chest like hers I almost let her stay! [Chorus: Maximum energy, the Hammond organ pushes harder, demanding a sing-along.] There is no truth in beauty! No salvation in a silhouette! I know the water's poison, I know the well is dry, There is no truth in beauty— But I choose the lie every time! I choose the lie every time… Every time! Every time! [Bridge: Sudden drop in tempo. "The Cliff." Only a single guitar, fingerpicked slowly, and a low, resonant cello. The vocal is close to the mic again, almost a cracked whisper. The realization sets in.] And over time I’ve realized. Internalized. Self-actualized. There is no inherent good in those deep blue eyes. No scripture written ‘tween those supple thighs. But a month or two and I’m back to the same, A moth destined to chase the flame! Chase the flame! [Verse 3: The tempo returns but feels heavier, more deliberate. The cello continues, playing a jagged, dragging counter-melody.] Then came the promise, the ring, the degree. Two years of tuition, supported by me. Working the mill while she slept in the heat of the day, Brushed back her hair and chased the shadows away. I bought her the lace and the silks she wore, Lived meal to meal; happy but poor. When she packed up her bags, she didn't bother to cry, Looked at me blankly and I didn't ask why. "We have nothing in common," she said to my face. And the kicker is, God, she was right in her place. I barely knew her, just knew the way she shined. Our love was a ghost; my heart was blind. The mirror was empty, the glass was clear. I loved someone who never was here. [Instrumental Break: A frantic, "unraveling" acoustic guitar solo over the driving drum beat. It sounds like it’s trying to stay in tune but slightly failing, intentionally leaning into dissonant notes. The organ begins to swell back in.] [Chorus: Triumphant, loud, and completely unrestrained. The sound of someone accepting their own beautiful doom.] There is no truth in beauty! No salvation in a silhouette! I know the water's poison, I know the well is dry, There is no truth in beauty— But I choose the lie every time! I choose the lie every time… Every time! Every time! [Outro: A massive, chaotic jam session. The drums crash, the organ swirls, and the bass walks heavily. The vocal delivery becomes a rhythmic, cathartic chant, varying in melody and intensity with each repetition, encouraging the crowd to take over.] There is no truth in beauty, but I choose the lie every time! There is no truth in beauty, but I choose the lie every time! [Instruments swelling, getting looser, almost discordant] There is no truth in beauty! But I choose the lie every time! Give me the lie! I choose the lie every time! [The jam continues for another sixteen bars, peaking in a wall of noise.]
