

{hyper-intimate close-mic dry entrance,
dark synth bass pulses at 432hz,
gritty lo-fi trap drums fade in slowly}
2 AM, the pink light bleeds on the wall
Conversational static, I’m waiting for the call
Montreal streets, gritty and cold outside
But in this grid,
there’s nowhere left to hide (Sharp breath)
Close-mic secrets, dripping in the lo-fi hum
Architect’s pulse, the beat of the Tigidou drum
Oh, the ghost in the pink,
fragile and wide
88 beats where the deepest secrets abide
A whisper, a smirk,
then a sudden shift Caught in the trap,
let the frequency drift
Vulnerable heart, exposed in the raw
Glossolalia grid, breaking the law
Slacker-rock energy, sinking in the bass
Angsty and honest, slowing down the pace
Vex pulls the glitch,
Quinn holds the line
Syncopated breath, everything’s aligned
No room for the noise,
just this dry, human sound
Stabilized, breathless, perfectly bound
{glitch textures swell, raw saturated arpeggios peak,
dry vocal space}
Whisper...calibrate... 88 Pink light fading,
seal the gate (Dry vocal
exhale)