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The Wasting
(Verse 1)
Started in the quiet, a flicker in the brain
Something took the pilot, now I just manage the rain
I used to know the poison ivy from the healing vine
Now I braid it 'round my wrist because I don't recall the sign
Traded my reflection for a shape that looks like me
Hold a broken compass just to disagree with North, you see
(Pre-Chorus)
And oh, the slow surrender
My instincts turning tender
I’m losing the agenda
For my own self-preservation
(Chorus)
It's the wasting, darling, it's the wasting in my blood
It turned the fire in my veins to cold November mud
I’m stumbling through the garden with a listless kind of grace
And I smile right at the hunters 'cause I can't recall the chase
Yeah, it’s the wasting, honey, you can't see it but it's here
And I bargain every morning with the ghost of all my fear
(Verse 2)
I’ve got a stranger's hunger for the things that make me sick
My own two hands are saboteurs, they've learned another trick
They rearrange the furniture inside my brittle bones
And build a lovely monument from shattered cobblestones
I wore the growing hollow like a fashionable coat
Wrote a love song to the anchor that was tethered to my throat
(Pre-Chorus)
And oh, the slow surrender
My motives getting tender
Can’t seem to remember
My own self-preservation
(Chorus)
It's the wasting, darling, it's the wasting in my blood
It turned the fire in my veins to cold November mud
I’m stumbling through the garden with a listless kind of grace
And I smile right at the hunters 'cause I can't recall the chase
Yeah, it’s the wasting, honey, you can't see it but it's here
And I bargain every morning with the ghost of all my fear
(Bridge)
There’s a photograph of a girl I used to know
She held a jawline sharpened for a war that helped her grow
Now I’m the placid river, not the stone that skips across
Just cataloging pieces for a definitive loss
I'm kneeling in the fallout, and I'm learning how to feed
On the bitter-tasting comfort of a parasitic need
(Outro)
It's the wasting...
(No fear left to hold)
The wasting...
(No heat from the cold)
It's the wasting...
(The story is sold)
My god, it’s the wasting...
(The body is sold)
About The Song
"The Wasting" is an exercise in emotional metaphor, taking the chilling news about the spread of Chronic Wasting Disease (CWD) in deer and transforming it into a deeply personal narrative. The song is not about the disease itself, but about the human experience it mirrors: the slow, internal erosion of self. It speaks to struggles with mental health like depression or depersonalization, or the experience of losing your identity within a toxic relationship. The core concept is the frighteningly quiet process of becoming a stranger to yourself—losing your instincts ("can't recall the chase"), feeling hollowed out, and performing a version of life while the real you recedes. The song's framework is built on the Active Agency Mandate, portraying the narrator not as a passive victim, but as someone actively 'managing the rain' and 'bargaining with fear,' capturing the exhausting fight to hold onto a sense of self.
Production Notes
Musical Style: Atmospheric Dark Pop / Industrial Folk
Influences: Billie Eilish, early Massive Attack, Portishead
Vocals: The main vocal should be captured with a high-sensitivity condenser mic like a Neumann U 87, extremely dry and close-mic'd in the verses to create a claustrophobic intimacy. In the chorus, stack 3-4 harmony layers, pan them wide, and run the main lead through a light compressor-distorter combo (like a Soundtoys Decapitator) to give it desperate grit. The bridge vocal should be a single take, emotionally raw and on the verge of cracking.
Arrangement: The track begins with a sparse, low, pulsing Moog-style synth and a filtered, ticking percussion that sounds like a faulty clock. The pre-chorus should introduce a haunting, slightly detuned Rhodes or piano melody. The chorus needs to be a dynamic explosion: a deep, syncopated 808 kick, industrial snare hits, and wide, atmospheric synth pads. Weave in foley sounds subtly—the snap of a twig, distorted breaths, the sound of mud squishing—to enhance the visceral feel. The track should strip back entirely for the bridge, leaving only the raw vocal and a faint, ethereal pad before slamming back into the final chorus.
Mix Automation: Automate reverb throws heavily on the last word of key lines in the chorus ("blood," "grace") to create space and decay. Use a moving low-pass filter on the entire master bus during the verses, opening it completely in the chorus to make the dynamic shift feel physically expansive. In the outro, automate the decay, slowly filtering out high-end frequencies until only the bass pulse and whispered vocal remain.
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