Lyrics

[INSTRUMENTAL INTRO]
[Sparse, melancholic piano and cello. A soft, heartbeat-like sub-bass. The mood is tense.]
[VERSE 1]
[VOCALS: Intimate, clinical whisper. Close to the mic.]
I see you from across the room, a study in control…
The architecture of your bones, a story to be told.
You’re holding court, a conversation, effortless and light…
But your pupils are dilated, drinking in the night.
[PRE-CHORUS]
[INSTRUMENTAL: 808 clap enters. Cello builds tension.]
[VOCALS: Becomes more melodic, breathy anticipation.]
Don't look at me, not yet... let the moment stretch and bend.
This silent consultation is about to start, my friend.
[CHORUS]
[INSTRUMENTAL: Fuller arrangement. The sub-bass is more prominent.]
[VOCALS: Full voice, restrained longing. Added reverb.]
This is the diagnosis, the un-curable affliction…
A beautiful, magnificent, and ruinous addiction.
You feel the symptoms, don't you? The fever and the ache…
Tell me every single rule you’re willing to let me break.
[VERSE 2]
[INSTRUMENTAL: Strips back to sub-bass and piano.]
[VOCALS: Returns to an intimate, clinical whisper.]
You shift your weight, a subtle signal only I can read…
Planting a completely devastating little seed.
We’re talking about the weather, we’re talking about art…
While I’m charting out the fastest, safest way to break your heart.
[PRE-CHORUS]
[INSTRUMENTAL: 808 clap and cello re-enter, building tension.]
[VOCALS: Breathier, with a hint of a smile.]
Don't look at me, keep talking... let the fiction serve you well.
We’re building a new kind of heaven, founded on a kinder hell.
[CHORUS]
[INSTRUMENTAL: Full beat returns. Cello is more passionate.]
[VOCALS: More power and desperation. Added harmonies.]
This is the diagnosis, the un-curable affliction…
A beautiful, magnificent, and ruinous addiction.
You feel the symptoms, don't you? The fever and the ache…
Tell me every single rule you’re willing to let me break.
[BRIDGE]
[INSTRUMENTAL: Music cuts to a pulsing sub-bass and a single, high cello note.]
[VOCALS: Vulnerable, spoken-word whisper. No rhythm.]
They see a conversation. A simple, social grace. I see a clinical trial, a test of time and space. The distance between our bodies is just a variable. The hypothesis is simple: your composure has a flaw. That beneath the polish, you are primal, you are raw. The control group is your polite society, my dear... but the only variable that truly matters is that I am here. And the outcome... the outcome is inevitable.
[FINAL CHORUS]
[INSTRUMENTAL: Full epic arrangement. Strings swell underneath.]
[VOCALS: Full power and passion. Desperate ad-libs.]
This is the diagnosis! (The beautiful affliction!)
This magnificent, this ruinous addiction! (Oh, the addiction!)
You feel it taking over! The fever and the ache!
Show me every single promise you were born to help me break!
[OUTRO]
[INSTRUMENTAL: Music cuts to solo piano playing the intro melody.]
[VOCALS: A final, ghostly whisper.]
...What's your diagnosis?
[INSTRUMENTAL: Piano fades away]