The first song was a version of “While My Guitar Gently Weeps” where the guitar sounded like it was being played on a harp made of human ribs. The second song was just 30 seconds of his own voice, reversed, whispering something he’d only ever thought to himself at age nine, crying in a closet.
The song that played was a cover of “Hotel California.” But the lyrics had changed.
It was 2:47 AM, and Leo’s playlist had just hit him with an ad for discounted laxatives. That was the final straw.
