Diastolic Hum

[Verse 1]
(Spoken, hushed, fumbling, over a single clean Telecaster line)
It's three forty-seven, and the General Mills plant
is making the whole damn First Ward smell like Cheerios again.
Sorry, I know the hour, but my thumb just… it kind of did it.
Feels like a new synapse just fired in my skull,
a bright, stupid impulse saying I should probably call.

[Chorus]
(Sung, suddenly erupts into a wall-of-sound: driving drums, bass, layered vocals)
And all my new wiring spells out your name!
It's terrifying, honest, and probably insane.

[Verse 2]
(Spoken, quiet again, the backing music recedes to just bass and a hint of guitar)
Remember you said, "Your heart's just a basement with boxes of junk"?
Well, the floor's swept clean and the air doesn't taste like rust anymore.
I'm… I’m learning to walk on a newly set bone, you know?
Anyway. It’s just quiet. Thought you should know.

[Chorus]
(Sung, huge and anthemic again)
And all my new wiring spells out your name!
It's terrifying, honest, and probably insane.

[Bridge]
(Music shifts, becomes spacious and dreamy. Vocal is half-sung, melodic)
There's a stain on my sleeve from the coffee I just spilled,
looks like a map of the city if the river over-filled.
A cartography of a clumsy, unshaking hand.

[Chorus]
(Full power, almost a scream, gospel harmonies prominent)
And all my new wiring spells out your name!
It's terrifying, honest, and probably insane.

(Music cuts out abruptly. Silence for 4 seconds.)

[Outro]
(Spoken, a whisper, right on the mic, no music)
Shit. Okay. Just… delete this when you wake up.