[Intro: A single, unimaginably low tuba note fades in from absolute silence. It holds without wavering, humming like a high-voltage power line. A meticulously clean acoustic guitar enters, picking a mathematically perfect, ticking 4/4 rhythm.] [Verse 1: The vocals enter, completely dry and delivered with rigid, spoken-word precision on the exact downbeats. The rhymes are exact, reflecting the illusion of control.] A mile of iron wire pulled tight across the clay. I count my breathing in a square to measure it away. (Measure it away) The section lines are perfect, the angles by design. We force the bleeding heart to beat a mathematical line. (A mathematical line) [Verse 2: The acoustic guitar begins to rush the tempo slightly, slipping off the grid. The vocal phrasing starts to stretch, utilizing enjambment to spill sentences over the bar lines. The strict rhymes begin to decay into slant rhymes, moving from the landscape into the body.] But the frost heave breaks the highway, the topsoil starts to bleed Into the painted boundaries, a chaotic Kind of seed. (A chaotic seed) My hands forget the ledger, the body doesn't know The borders of the schedule when the heavy fevers Blow. [Instrumental Shift: The acoustic guitar suddenly loses its rhythm completely, stumbling into dissonant, un-quantized plucks before stopping entirely. The underlying tuba drone swells violently, splitting into two discordant, vibrating tones. A deep, heavily reverbed floor tom begins to strike erratically like an arrhythmic heartbeat.] [Verse 3: The vocals shift from spoken-word to a strained, breathless chant. The language fractures into an embodied incantation, echoing the collapse of the internal and external structure.] The grid is washing out. The grid is washing... washing out. (Washing out) Nothing stays straight in the blood. (Nothing) Nothing stays straight. (Straight) The ruler snaps. The ruler snaps. The ruler snaps. (Snaps... snaps...) [Outro: The erratic drums drop out. The tuba reaches a deafening, vibrating crescendo before instantly cutting to silence. The vocals linger, utilizing negative space.] Ah... ah... (Ah...) Under the dirt. [A final, faint metallic click of the acoustic guitar being set down on a stand.]
