Give me a sine. Evidence of a mind at work, some sense of a heart that beats. What is this? Give me a sine. Give me a beat.

There's a number of things that I want to say to you Just a couple of things regarding the number two. 2-2-2-2 2 2 2-2-2-2-2-2-2 2-2 2-2-2-2 2 2 2-2-2-2-2-2-2 2-2 There's a couple of things 2-2-2-2-2 2 2 It's a number of things 2-2-2-2-2 2-2 2-2 2-2-2-2-2 2 2 2-2-2-2-2 2 2 2-2-2-2-2 2 2 2-2 2-2-2-2 2 2-2-2-2-2 2 2 2-2

Can you be minimalist? Listen to this, I'll speak concisely To make my point, my point precisely. I want to know that you haven't missed me being minimalist.

Am I awake? I guess it seems surreal and fake Like it's a dream Bang goes the TV and how we jump. The flashing lights, ADHD ready. Who owns the rights to my eyes? Not me. Are you unsure? Are you impure? Are you unsure if you're impure? Me too. Bang goes the TV and how we jump. Am I awake? I guess it seems surreal and fake Like it's a dream Bang goes the TV... Bang goes the TV and how we jump.

My brother told me I should change my name to something else 'cause if you're making music, anonymity can help. The one thing you should never do is ever be yourself. My brother told me I should change my name to something else like Twistfuck He told me to pick something stupid and ridiculous, A gimmick and a novelty makes people curious. Twistfuck. What do you see in your mind when you hear me say Twistfuck? (Give me a sine) I guess I took all his advice a little bit to heart But I don't want to slap a bullshit name on all my art. When everything is meaningless and less is meaningful, Fuck SEO, I use my given name on principle. Twistfuck isn't appropriate. Twistfuck doesn't express who I am. I'm a serious man.

I'm in the control room. It sounds bizarre to the uninitiated, but from here I can control the movements of a particular goldfish. Inside the control room, there are two main screens, one for each eye, with flashing lights and buttons underneath and further panels and displays built into the desk. Several are for motor control, some for waste expulsion, some for sensory organs. There is one for every bland inevitability of life. My job is to keep the show going. I make the goldfish eat when food appears, excrete waste when necessary, extract oxygen using the respiratory systems. I don't even have to understand how gills work, it's all automated. But I can exert control sometimes, when all the automation gets too boring. I can swim to one side of the tank, then back to where I came from, past the old-fashioned diving suit leaking its bubbles to the surface. I can focus the eyes on the human interactions beyond the tank and imagine what they are saying to each other. I hear them with their underwater, out-of-focus voices, their muffled low-end utterances. I can never really make out much of it. And it's not really relevant to my world. I swim back to the diver. Sometimes I swim right into his stream of bubbles. A purple panel on the desk lights up and makes a peculiar sound. I quite enjoy it. It sounds musical to me. Swimming into the bubbles is just about the most exciting thing I get to do here. There's another goldfish in the tank. I'm not sure it has anyone to control it. I think it's just a fish.

I cannot sing the old songs I sung long years ago for heart and voice would fail me and foolish tears would flow For bygone hours come o'er my heart with each familiar strain I cannot sing the old songs or dream those dreams again I cannot sing the old songs, their charm is sad and deep Their melodies would waken old sorrows from their sleep And though all unforgotten still and sadly sweet they be I cannot sing the old songs, they are too dear to me I cannot sing the old songs for visions come again of golden dreams departed and years of weary pain Perhaps when earthly fetters shall have set my spirit free my voice may know the old songs for all eternity My voice may know the old songs...

(Give me a sine, give me a sine, give me a sine) I may not be in my right mind, I don't think I'm left-brained. The water's flowing backwards as it's going down the drain. This reminds me, this reminds me of something Of something from my past These hemispheres evaporate, the clouds fill up with rain. The water's flowing backwards as it's going down the drain. This reminds me, this reminds me of something That wasn't made to last. It's like the laws of physics have completely gone insane. The water's flowing backwards as it's going down the drain.