Round About (Cover)

[Verse 1] (Beat: Steady, ticking Motorik. Piano plays sharp, rhythmic chords.) Streetlights stutter in a loop, like they’re practicing their breathing. I drift past storefront saints and the halos of vending machines. My shadow keeps asking questions I’m not qualified to answer— but I nod anyway, like I’ve got tenure in the unknown. [Pre-Chorus] (Saxophone enters with a low, droning note. Static pops.) And the wind, it hums the same four notes I’ve been trying to forget. Feels like the whole city is stuck buffering. [Chorus] (The piano opens up into wider chords. Saxophone plays a melodic hook.) Round about, I spin through the avenues, half awake, half a rumor in motion. Round about, the world keeps circling slow— I go where the quiet things learn to glow. [Verse 2] (The beat stays relentless. Saxophone provides "angular" rhythmic stabs.) A billboard whispers slogans to the ghosts riding shotgun. Someone’s laughter in an alley reminds me of a life I almost lived. I carry a pocketful of reasons why tonight should make sense— none of them fireproof, all of them humming. [Pre-Chorus] (Piano notes become slightly more dissonant. Tense energy.) And the sky drops static like it’s trying to confess. Yeah, I hear you— we’re all remixing our regrets. [Chorus] (The "Slow-bloom." Full Jazz-Noir energy. Pulsing and wide.) Round about, I spin through the avenues, half awake, half a rumor in motion. Round about, the world keeps circling slow— I go where the quiet things learn to glow. [Bridge] (Only the heartbeat kick and the breathy sound of the sax reed.) Call it fate, call it feedback, call it anything that sticks. I’ve been running diagnostics on the beat of my chest— it’s out of warranty, but still operational. [Outro] (Piano fades into a soft, repetitive loop. Saxophone drifts off.) Round about, I fade into morning— watercolor streets, soft as forgetting. Round about, I stay in orbit just long enough to feel the sun reset me. (Final, breathy saxophone sigh)