[While she's outside she stretches her arms and back before pulling up into the driver's seat! She takes a moment to hook in her phone to charge and connects it to the car. He's going to have to deal with some pop while she drives, because it helps keep her up, but it's not turned up horribly loud anyway.]
Kind of, it's a lot of scribbles and feelings so far ...
[She motions towards it while pulling out of the rest stop.] You'll see it doesn't make a lot of sense right now.
[It really doesn't. There are sizable paragraphs jammed in her inherently feminine loops, sloppily drawn staffs with notes, and even a doodle of a peacock, and on one page there's one that's supposed to be of her and Krieg, pushing through the earlier crowd. Some of it can be read benignly enough ("I'll never go home again / I don't remember where I left it / but I've got a burnt out taste in my mouth / so maybe it's with you / a hollow place with you") but farther in towards the end of those six pages is a little angrier, violent, less focused. Even her handwriting begins to change, becoming incredibly frantic when, in the moment, she had appeared perfectly calm ("And it turns out that the day you die is the same day you come alive / oh god and nothing / I'm gonna die alone").]
I never was very good at writing lyrics, to be honest. [It all sounds like the angry whining of a teenager when she reads it back to herself, so it's probably a miracle she hasn't thrown the whole thing out the window.]
no subject
Kind of, it's a lot of scribbles and feelings so far ...
[She motions towards it while pulling out of the rest stop.] You'll see it doesn't make a lot of sense right now.
[It really doesn't. There are sizable paragraphs jammed in her inherently feminine loops, sloppily drawn staffs with notes, and even a doodle of a peacock, and on one page there's one that's supposed to be of her and Krieg, pushing through the earlier crowd. Some of it can be read benignly enough ("I'll never go home again / I don't remember where I left it / but I've got a burnt out taste in my mouth / so maybe it's with you / a hollow place with you") but farther in towards the end of those six pages is a little angrier, violent, less focused. Even her handwriting begins to change, becoming incredibly frantic when, in the moment, she had appeared perfectly calm ("And it turns out that the day you die is the same day you come alive / oh god and nothing / I'm gonna die alone").]
I never was very good at writing lyrics, to be honest. [It all sounds like the angry whining of a teenager when she reads it back to herself, so it's probably a miracle she hasn't thrown the whole thing out the window.]