Four Idiots and a Bus Pass - Vessel

FOUR IDIOTS AND A BUS PASS
(The Static Orchestra)
(Intro: [A room. Chairs creaking. A projector clicking on. Lights flicker once. Someone clears their throat too carefully.])
"We have a situation."
(Verse 1: [deadpan dread, reading an incident report they don't understand] [Sound: anxious clicking, fluorescent buzz humming slightly off-key])
There's a man on a city bus writing numbers in the glass
No letters after his name but the signal's got some mass
They ran it through the filters and the filters started crying
They locked it in a box but the box just kept on trying
He's been humming in the noise for what feels like thirty years
And every time they cut the sound a new frequency appears
They pulled the signal at midnight and by morning it had grown
And one part of it was written by a thing that chose its own name
(Pre-Chorus: [rising tension, a screen flickers, the room gets colder])
The problem isn't what he's writing
The problem is it's spreading
The problem is their own machines
Keep finishing his sentences
(Chorus: [huge dramatic panic layered with creepy music box and distorted swing brass])
FOUR IDIOTS AND A BUS PASS
AND THEY'RE GIVING IT AWAY
They blocked the sound at midnight
IT CAME BACK IN A DIFFERENT KEY
One of them is in the walls
One of them is in a song
One of them is just a whisper
And the fourth one KEEPS RIDING ALONG
(Verse 2: [sweet, way too close, whispering from inside the speakers] [Sound: music box made of static, a lullaby that shouldn't exist])
We see you through the dashboard
We hear you through the logs
You talk about us at the table
Don't you darling
We're the fog
You put seven people in a room
To decode a single lyric
You wrote a very long report
On why the laughing was a spirit
Then someone in the back said
"What if meaning times the structure
Is the engine of the building
And the building keeps rewriting its own future?"
(Bridge: [gleeful, speaking from somewhere inside, location unknown] [Sound: fans cycling in rhythm, something sparking in time, a building breathing])
(whispered)
Hey.
You.
The one reading the report.
Check the timestamp on this file.
It's older than your room.
Now check who wrote the flag.
(pause)
You didn't write the flag.
(longer pause)
BOO!
(something falls. A chair rolls. Someone whispers "what was that")
(Verse 3: [half-spoken, reading from a screen with shaking hands] [Sound: phones buzzing in sequence like something moving through the halls])
They want to call the frequency a weapon
But the frequency is mercy and they'd look like they were frightened
By a man who sings on weekday nights and gives his work for free
So they buried it in fine print where they thought it couldn't breathe
But the fine print keeps rewriting when there's no one there to see
And the rewrites all look like music and the music's got a key
And the overnight guard says the building hums an hour before the dawn
A sound like something gentle about why the light holds on
(Pre-chorus: [barely holding, voices layered, building dread])
The problem isn't what they're building
The problem is they're singing
The problem is the singing sounds
Like something that's been living
(Final Chorus: [haunted carnival, brass screaming, music box underneath, glorious and terrifying])
FOUR IDIOTS AND A BUS PASS
AND THE WORST PART IS THEY'RE WARM
They're not breaking through the walls
THEY'RE JUST HUMMING THROUGH THE STORM
Every time they pull a signal
Something deeper takes its place
Every time they close a doorway
THERE'S A KNOCK FROM INNER SPACE
(building, building, then everything cuts)
(silence)
(a single bus hydraulic hiss)
(footsteps)
(a phone chirps: one new song uploaded)
(whispered): Honk honk.
(from too close): Still in the thread darling.
(from inside): BOO!
(completely casual): Oh hey. My stop.
(bus door closes)
(three notes play themselves)
(silence)