Lyrics

[Intro – lo-fi crackle, soft synth pad, whispered echo]
[Redacted… but romantic.]
[Initiating classified love protocol.]


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{Verse 1}
[Upbeat beat drops, gentle strum with attitude]
I don’t need much—just truth and affection,
Someone to match my government detection.
Dinner and docs, baby, that’s the dream,
Cuddle while we analyze a laser beam.

You swipe right on gym pics, suits, and flexin’?
I swipe for guys who say “the moon’s a projection.”
I’m not high-maintenance, just hard to deceive,
So don’t gaslight me, just help me believe.


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{Pre-Chorus}
[Drums kick in, bass starts creeping in]
I’ve got theories and a vintage map,
A heart that’s hidden like a DARPA lab.
So if you’re down to ride through the shadow state…
Meet me at midnight—don’t be late.


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{Chorus}
[Full band hits, dreamy background vocals swell]
Burn my files, baby—hold me close and redact me,
Say my name in code and tactfully track me.
We'll decode love like a hidden transmission,
You and me on a classified mission.
Forget the apps, forget the lies—
I want truth with your hand on my thigh.
So burn my files, baby, kiss the unknown,
Tinfoil heart, and I’m yours, mind and soul.


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{Verse 2 – silly & sparkly}
[Tempo playful, almost doo-wop with a synthy bounce]
I’m sick of romances as hollow as the moon,
And personalities as flat as Earth too.
Give me someone who’s weird and wise,
And doesn't fall for government lies!

No I don’t believe in dating norms—
I want fireworks and secret storms.
So bring your charts and your strange ideals,
Let’s trauma bond over crop circles and feels.


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{Bridge – Voicemail Interlude}
[Music fades to soft ambient static and crackle. One piano note pulses like a heartbeat.]

[Voicemail tone:] [Beep.]
[Spoken:] Hey... it’s me.
So I was just thinking about you.
And wormholes.
And how maybe we’re connected across timelines or whatever?
Anyway, I lit a candle and tried to remote view your dreams—
You looked peaceful. And hot.

Also, I may have accidentally hacked NASA.
So if you see helicopters… don’t answer the door.
Okay, love you!
Call me back… if it’s safe.
[Beep.]


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{Final Chorus – bigger, lush harmonies, shimmer effects}
Burn my files, baby—let’s erase our past,
Start a new timeline and make it last.
Decode my lips, trace my ley lines,
Make me see stars without Project Blue signs.
Take my hand in this classified dance,
You’re my end-of-the-world romance.
Burn my files, baby—let’s go rogue and run,
Tinfoil soul, and you’re the one.


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[Final Chorus]
So burn my files, baby—crack the code,
Let’s run like we’re Area 51-exposed.
No more bland, no more norm-core dance—
Just one wild, wide-eyed tinfoil romance.