Static Heartstrings

{Captain Quinn’s close-mic, bit-crushed whisper over a warbly,

degraded cassette synth pad and a digital stutter glitch} Amara vara mara

vara. Transmission cycle advancing.

Quinn at the helm.

Was it all for a show?

We're casting the roles and owning the stage.

Execute.

Headspace turns to worms,

it's been on my mind lately,

Watching all the static characters trying to break me.

At any given moment when you grace past me,

Is it real life or a glitch in the binary?

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

While outside on our private land,

the silent walls break!

{compressed, punchy 808 bass and bit-crushed synth arpeggio slam in} I always

change the channel when the couple starts to kiss,

Who needs a script when you're living like this?

Lâches pas la patate,

babe, even when the stage falls through,

We're rewriting the ending for the crew!

'Cause was it all for a show?

Now I look so stupid for casting the roles!

When the curtains close,

I wish that I was in your clothes!

Times like these, I try not to get upset,

All I do is think about you,

and this is the thanks I get?

With absolute autonomy locked over every pink-lined space,

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

passed with a slap to the back of my head,

Laughing at the bitter things that people always said.

Now you're walking down the aisle with someone you never met,

While we're balancing our hormones and crushing every threat!

Sketchers on the pavement,

running from the past,

Knowing damn well that this manic summer won't last.

{Instruments drop to an isolated,

bit-crushed vocal loop and a slow,

clicking drum machine}

It gets so hard to speak,

a commodity... When you're searching for a voice in the melody.

Lâches pas la patate...

let the static clear!

{massive, stadium-sized wall of bit-crushed guitars,

heavy sub-bass, and soaring vocals explodes} We hold our sparkly silver swords

up high and let the transmission ring...

{Glitched bit-crushed synth leads colliding with heavy

emo-trap guitar distortion and compressed drum breaks}

'Cause was it all for a show?

Now I look so stupid for casting the roles!

When the curtains close,

I wish that I was in your clothes!

Times like these, I try not to get upset,

All I do is think about you,

and this is the thanks I get?

With absolute

autonomy locked over every pink-lined space,

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

filtering out into a heavy digital bit-crush downsample,

a cassette warp, and a sharp click} Amara vara mara vara...

Lâches pas la patate!

Tiguidou... Captain Quinn and the crew,

advancing to the next cycle together.

{final digital artifact dissolving into absolute,

stylish, sovereign silence}