Everett Sloane drops a heavy dose of domestic rebellion with this track. It’s the anthem for every survivor who has ever looked at their standard-issue boots and decided they weren’t putting them on. While his sisters are busy boosting morale, Everett is busy boosting the snooze button on the apocalypse.
The Tactical Delay
The track focuses on the “tender grit” of a shared bunk. Everett highlights the immediate, physical world—the missing buttons on a shirt and the scent of Sector 3—as the only things worth defending. He argues that in a world built for “the march,” the most radical thing you can do is be “subdued” by a mood rather than a mandate. It’s a song that treats pleasure as the only commodity the bunker authorities haven’t figured out how to tax yet.
The Unpolished Truth
Everett’s delivery is casual, almost lazy, perfectly matching the “world can wait” energy of the lyrics. He’s the voice of the soldier who sees through the grand anthems and realizes that the “bunker way” is just a series of survival drills meant to keep you from noticing the morning. By choosing “sin” over “war,” Everett creates a raw, unscripted frequency that feels more like a confession than a broadcast.
MORNING WOULD
by: Everett Sloane
She brings me toast, no plate, just hands,
And hums a tune from Sector Three.
She’s got my shirt, no underpants,
And says, “You dreamt out loud at me.”
Morning would, wouldn’t it?
Rise and shine with one small hit.
Sunlight slants through concrete cracks—
She’s curled up close, I can’t resist.
Morning would, wouldn’t it?
Coffee, grin, and tender grit.
A bunk this tight’s a compromise…
But somehow she still straddles sides.
She’s late for post. I don’t protest.
That uniform fits wrong today.
I say, “You missed a button, miss.”
She says, “That’s just the bunker way.”
I try to sit.
She takes my lap.
We talk of plans… but skip the map.
Morning would, wouldn’t it?
Mission brief, but not legit.
We’re built for war, but start with sin—
The world can wait, let pleasure win.
Morning’s got her scent and shade.
Morning’s got her sleep-streaked mood.
And even if we’re due to march—
I’d rather be subdued.
Morning would…