[Intro]
[Sound of a jukebox needle hitting a record, which immediately warps into a low, pulsing synth drone. The sound of a percolating coffee maker and a single, clean piano note.]

[Verse 1]
[A simple, slightly out-of-tune surf guitar riff begins. The vocal is sweet, almost like a 50s commercial, but with a flat, deadpan delivery.]
Gingham checks and cherry pie
Under a neon, sleeping eye
The coffee pours like midnight oil
The cream is thick, the sugar, soil.

[Pre-Chorus]
[The music becomes slightly wobbly, as if the tape is slowing down. A new, dissonant synth layer enters. The vocal becomes more hushed and rushed.]
The bell above the door chimes sharp and clear
A sudden silence, then a wave of fear
A familiar face, but the eyes are new
And they're looking right through you.

[Chorus]
[The track snaps into a shaky, hypnotic groove. The lead vocal is now a sweet-but-haunting female melody, but it's backed by a heavily distorted, whispering chorus that emphasizes key words.]
Welcome to the Double R, where the timelines fray
Where the special of the day will make you stay
The pie is sweet, the coffee's black as space
This is a waiting room, a familiar face.

[Verse 2]
[The surf guitar is now drenched in reverb and delay, creating a disorienting echo. The vocal is more narrative, like gossip.]
He talks to a log, she cries in her booth
They're stitching together a terrible truth
The jukebox plays a backwards tune
Under a plastic, dusty moon.

[Pre-Chorus]
[Same wobbling, destabilizing effect as before.]
The bell above the door chimes sharp and clear
A sudden silence, then a wave of fear
A familiar face, but the eyes are new
And they're looking right through you.

[Chorus]
[More intense, the whispering backing vocals are more prominent, almost battling the lead.]
Welcome to the Double R, where the timelines fray
Where the special of the day will make you stay
The pie is sweet, the coffee's black as space
This is a waiting room, a familiar face.

[Bridge]
[The music drops out entirely, leaving only the low drone and the sound of sizzling grease from the grill. The spoken word is not just distorted, but multi-layered, with different voices speaking in a round.]
[Voice 1, whisper] "Is it future... or is it past?"
[Voice 2, filtered through a telephone] "The man... from... another place..."
[Voice 3, a child's voice] "There's a fish in the percolator!"
[All voices together, rising to a frantic whisper] "GARMONBOZIA!"

[Instrumental Break]
[Not a guitar solo, but a surge of noise: the surf guitar riff is fed through a ring modulator, creating metallic, shrieking sounds over a frantic, free-jazz drum freakout that suddenly cuts off.]

[Final Chorus]
[The music returns, but it's broken and weary. The lead vocal is now strained and desperate, while the whispering voices are clearer and more dominant.]
Welcome to the Double R, where the timelines fray...
Where the special of the day will make you stay...
The pie is sweet, the coffee's black as space...
This is a waiting room... this is a waiting room... this is your face.

[Outro]
[The music dissolves into the sound of chewing, a fork scraping a plate, and the relentless, buzzing fluorescent light. A final, clear whisper.]
"Every day, once a day... give yourself a present."
[Sound of a single, sharp intake of breath, then silence.]