

{soft acoustic guitar
strumming with string squeaks and room tone,
close condenser mic capture,
unquantized
imperfect strums, female breath sounds} It's 2 AM
and the city is finally still,
Just breathing the air on a quiet windowsill.
No microphones glowing, no stadium lights to prove,
Just the sound of a heart doing what it needs to do.
Tara's got the notebook
open on her knee,
Quinn is listening close to the frequency.
We don't need a polish,
we don't need a sheen,
Just the most human room
that there's ever been.
{close-mic female vocal delivery,
slightly breathy} Keep it raw,
keep it real, keep it right in the dark,
With a cracked-open voice and a beating soft heart.
From the shadows we built with the things that we knew,
To the quietest hum of a life called Tiguidou.
(yeah) {intimate whispered vocals close to mic} Just us.
Just the room.
Just
the truth. Tara, Captain Quinn,
and the hyper-tuned
crew.
{single acoustic strum
fading into silence}