Late Night Yankee Foxtrot

Chika sits on her bed, restringing and tuning her banjo to record a rough demo of a song she had written earlier in the day. She had smoked marijuana in the forest when she wrote it after feeling extremely down.
She clicks the tape recorder next to her on an end table and clears her throat. She plays a slightly folksy, country-esque style but upbeat and poppy like Modest Mouse, the latter especially because of her vocal stylings and delivery of lyrics with the lyrics themselves containing the surrealism of a Wilco song.

She said, "Cut it out with the starry-eyed, cloud-think."
Gotta stay down, keep my eye on the ball
Gotta play hard, Chika eat a well balanced breakfast
If you learn to stay on your toes long enough, you'll never have the chance to fall

Yeah, enough, with the hallmark, hollywood peptalks
I'm done with the whispers between these thin paper walls
How come you never walk the galk you spout out
What was with the down-low, debriefing in the company restroom stalls

Tab a patch of sunshine on this cold shoulder
Bottom of the bottle, mommy grab the beam of light
Stay in the Irish bath too long and you'll appear older
Drown your sorrows all you want to but with your shut eyes, morning with always be at night

Pop kiss vanilla, pour plastic sprinkles on the big crowd
Chain-gang singers in a soulless wonder wonderland
Late night hotel dog rut which we go and in which we are
Best hang on tight to your ego
Choke it, hold it down before it takes control
Choke it, hold it down before it takes control
Choke it, hold it down before it takes.....
Control.

Chika strums a bit more before cutting and playing it back. She nods in slight satisfaction and lies back on the bed, banjo still her hand, drifting off in thought.