Ink Between the Measures – Original Song by Nikki Sings (Baroque-Horror Ragtime) скачать в хорошем качестве

Ink Between the Measures – Original Song by Nikki Sings (Baroque-Horror Ragtime)

What happens when the music you’re playing starts… playing you? “Ink Between the Measures” tells the story of a ragtime pianist in 1899 who realizes his sheet music is alive. Each measure rearranges itself mid-song. Ledger lines twist. Notes shuffle. His fingers obey patterns he never learned. With every chorus, the music pulls him further from his parlor and deeper into the inked world forming beneath his hands. Is he composing the rag… or is the rag composing him? This was one of my more experimental pieces, blending baroque horror, ragtime energy, and a narrative that slowly slips out of reality. I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed creating it. —Nikki Lyrics Ink Between The Measures (Baroque-Horror Ragtime) [Verse 1] Gaslight hiss Cracked-ivory grin He straightens his cuffs Lets the ghosts walk in Title page flickers Ink still wet Name on the corner Spelling out his death (shh) [Chorus] The rag writes the man Bar lines bend and laugh Every measure moves his hands Like a marionette in black Is he the author Or only the pen? Each chorus cuts him Looser from the room he’s in The rag writes the man And starts again [Verse 2] He plays the first strain Jagged but grand Then the ledger lines split Crawl over his hand Notes trade places Keys turn cold The melody smirks Leads him where it’s told (oh) [Chorus] The rag writes the man Bar lines bend and laugh Every measure moves his hands Like a marionette in black Is he the author Or only the pen? Each chorus cuts him Looser from the room he’s in The rag writes the man And starts again [Bridge] [tempo lurches Harmony darkens] Triplet run That he never learned Finger bones burn As the pages turn Ledger-ink voice Whispers his name “You thought you wrote me But we’re the same” (we’re the same) [Chorus] The rag writes the man Staves curl Spiral wide Every cadence claws him out Of the parlor Of his life Is he composing Or composed by the tune? Paper swallows up his breath Like a second Silent room The rag writes the man Till he’s on the page too [Outro] Last chord hanging Room gone thin Only the piano And the ink he’s in