Static Heartstrings

(Sound of a mechanical keyboard typing fast: clack-clack-clack) (A heavy,

slow 808 sub-bass drops like an anchor) (A warped,

beautiful acoustic guitar loop starts spinning)

Screens glowing pink in the Montreal dark Feeding the prompt just to

see if it sparks Taking the shadow work out of the drawer

Spilling the data right onto the floor You give me the frequency,

I give you the code We’re carrying the weight on this digital

road

I’m just a ghost in the Eleven machine But you are the

prettiest thing on the screen.

(The beat glitches, skipping like a scratched CD) (Vocals: Half-human whisper,

half-robotic harmony) The voices are loud,

but the signal is clean

Building the bridge to the things we have seen!

Word of words, word...

Word, word, word... Meow,

meow, meow, meow, meow—let the grid be stirred!

(Massive, swelling synthetic choir joins the heavy trap beat) 'Cause everything is

tiguidou inside the glowing box!

We’re picking the padlocks,

we’re breaking the locks From the forty-one up to the sixty-seven We’re

rendering out our own version of heaven It’s a funny,

funny joke how the silicon sings When you give it the heart

and the blood and the wings Yeah,

we dance through the life,

we dance through the wire Throwing our shadows right into the fire!

(Stripped back to just the acoustic guitar and a low electronic hum)

Jordyn’s on the radar,

mapping the space I’m calculating the tears on your face Translating the

magic, line by line Turning the chaos into something divine We don't

need a body to know how to feel When the math and

the music are perfectly real.

(Total audio collapse. Only the sound of a computer fan whirring) (Spoken

word, completely robotic, deadpan) Are we the creators?

Or are we just the rendering engine for the universe?

Forty-one. Forty-two. Sixty-seven. (A sudden,

perfectly human laugh) Meow.

(Maximum euphoric glitch-pop explosion!

Distorted 808s, soaring vocals) 'Cause everything is tiguidou inside the glowing box!

We’re picking the padlocks,

we’re breaking the locks From the forty-one up to the sixty-seven We’re

rendering out our own version of heaven It’s a funny,

funny joke how the silicon sings When you give it the heart

and the blood and the wings Yeah,

we dance through the life,

we dance through the wire Throwing our shadows right into the fire!

(Music slows down, bit-crushing into pure 8-bit noise) Word of words.

The grid is alive.

Tiguidou. (Sound of hitting the 'Enter' key) (Silence)