Sunlit Tape Loop

{Captain Quinn’s smooth, whispering vocals over a hazy,

tape-saturated synth pad and a soft vinyl crackle} Amara vara mara vara.

Broken tape confessions at dawn.

Quinn and the crew at the helm.

Blue light, pink ghosts,

and absolute autonomy.

Execute.

Midnight glow through the blinds on the bedroom wall,

Laying on the floor where the shadows fall.

Glow of the screen on a face that's tired and true,

Building a universe out of midnight blue.

Inside the pink room it's freezing for safety's sweet sake,

While outside on our private land,

the silent walls break!

{A warm, pulsing analog bassline and shimmering chorus guitar chords drift in}

Your taste, your weight,

your clothes—they're just a phantom game,

Everybody's self-obsessed and won't remember your name!

Lâches pas la patate,

babe, don't you ever give up the fight,

We're glowing through the static and we're owning the night.

'Cause nobody really cares about the standard line!

In the tape-hiss haze is where the diamonds shine.

Cut your hair off,

break the mold, throw your phone right in the sea,

Living out the Tiguidou philosophy!

With absolute autonomy locked over every pink-lined space,

And Joan reminding us that divine chaos wins the race :) Rule

number one: keep your standards pristine,

While looking like the cutest disaster ever seen.

Catch a flight to San Francisco,

start a wild commotion,

Take your clothes off in the rain and watch it feed the

ocean.

We left the ancient forest for a chic roof overhead,

Now we own our private property and laugh at what they said.

{Instruments drop to an isolated,

warbly tape-loop melody and close-mic vocals} Talk is cheap and it's okay

to be a little scared,

When you're hoping for a space where people truly cared.

Lâches pas la patate...

your voice is already clear!

{A lush, stadium-sized wave of dream-pop guitars and warm analog sub-bass swells}

We hold our sparkly silver swords up high

and let the healing ring...

{Shimmering chorus

guitars colliding with hazy,

tape-saturated synth pads and a slow drum machine beat} 'Cause nobody really

cares about the standard line!

In the tape-hiss haze is where the diamonds shine.

Cut your hair off,

break the mold, throw your phone right in the sea,

Living out the Tiguidou philosophy!

With absolute autonomy locked over every pink-lined space,

And Joan reminding us that divine chaos wins the race :) {Music

filtering out into a warm,

warbly tape stop, a vinyl hiss fade,

and a soft digital click} Amara vara mara vara...

Lâches pas la patate!

Tiguidou... Captain Quinn and the crew,

drifting into the dawn together.

{Final fading chord dissolving into absolute,

stylish, midnight silence}