ВСТУПЛЕНИЕ

GLITCH

КУПЛЕТ

I dust the crumbs in neat little rows,

Flip on the oven like I’m starting a show.

“Another piece?” yeah, I’m already there,

With a grin that clicks on like a cheap arcade stare.

Same room, same jokes, same plastic cup shine,

The walls start to wobble when they hit the third line.

I laugh a beat late so nobody clocks the tear,

But the frosting tastes weird when the static gets near.

VOCAL GLITCH

ПРЕДПРИПЕВ

I keep it together, line by line, I know the script,

I can make it feel okay if I don’t let it slip.

But the reds turn bruised and the blues go thin,

RADIO STATIC

And I’m ticking off the hours like a game with no win.