Tape Haze Confessions

{Captain Quinn’s slightly off-kilter,

close-mic whisper over a detuned,

warbly acoustic guitar and heavy cassette hiss} "Amara vara mara vara.

Hormonal harmony recursion.

Quinn at the helm.

Keeping the chemistry balanced and the tape rolling.

Execute."

Stumbling through the shifts when the body feels strange,

Riding out the waves of a chemical change.

Laying on the floor with a glass of fresh greens,

Nourishing the soul and keeping up the routines.

Inside the pink room it's freezing

for safety's sweet sake,

While outside on our private land,

the rough edges break!

{A distorted, fuzzy bassline and loose,

clattering drums stumble in} Balance out the estrogen,

protect the inner peace,

Watching all the internal friction start to decrease!

Lâches pas la patate,

even when it feels out of line,

We're brewing up the remedies to help the system shine.

'Cause nobody really cares about the standard line!

In the messy, bleeding static 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 a mess,

While managing the biology and handling the stress.

Catch a flight to nowhere,

start a loud commotion,

Nourish every cell like it's a healing potion.

We left the ancient forest for a leaky roof overhead,

Now we balance out our hormones and laugh at what they said.

{Instruments drop to a lone,

out-of-tune guitar strum and a shaky,

unfiltered vocal take} Words don't always work when you're trying to explain,

Sometimes you just have to soothe the body and the brain.

Lâches pas la patate...

let it heal, let it repair!

{A sudden wall of loud,

fuzzy, shoegaze-distortion guitars and smashing drums explodes} We hold our messy,

rusted swords up high and let the wellness ring out...

{Fuzzy, jangling bedroom-pop guitars colliding

with

heavy tape saturation

and unpolished DIY rhythm tracks} 'Cause nobody really cares about the standard

line! In the messy,

bleeding static 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 cutting off abruptly into a loud tape stop,

a lingering hum, and an unedited breath} Amara vara mara vara...

Lâches pas la patate!

Tiguidou... Captain Quinn and the crew,

keeping the chemistry steady and the tape spinning.

{Final click of the recorder turning off into dead silence}