precision

[I:tick/piano] Surgical precision. Twelve seconds missing; silence marks the crime. He chose the shot that saved his name. I counted each chime. (Click.) I chose the cut. [V1:dry/close] I chose the cut; he chose close-ups, captions, reactions, Twelve seconds missing between threat and my reaction. He staged a clean scene, trimmed panic from the take; Kept my fist in focus, made his weapon seem fake. Kept my breathing level as the room got louder; Stacked clean angles till the truth got crowded. His edit looked perfect; mine showed the damage; A clean frame hides blood and still passes for proof. Selective omission: he buried the action; I stripped only noise, preserved every fraction. He deletes the cause, then markets the reaction; I follow the fracture till facts get traction. They crown fast tongues; headlines eat meaning, I slow the frame where everyone stopped seeing. He chased the headline; I chased the confession: Truth needs a witness; speed alone is misdirection. [PH:drop] Strip the noise. Keep the nerve. Don't let the lens decide your worth. Name the wound; You can't censor the hurt. [H:half/gang] CUT CLEAN! COUNT TWELVE! Make the missing time testify! ONE BREATH! NO FRAME! Watch the false story die! NO CROWN! NO HALO! No polished alibi; Show the cause before you judge the reply! CUT CLEAN! TWO SIDES! Let the whole night speak! Show the threat and the panic, the flinch and the shriek! If you bury the cause, you've scripted a lie - CUT CLEAN! COUNT TWELVE! Let the record verify! [V2:bass/hats] Three of us chased the summit; two broke under strain, I carry both their names when the packs pull at my frame. He wanted the high shot; I hauled all his packs; Framed himself against the sky, never named who had his back. Boots split, lungs burning, blood dark beneath my glove; He smiled beside the skyline, called my suffering love. Later in the kitchen: labels by the sink, Half a glass of water, watching my friend shrink. New bottle, same hurt; another script written. They treated what showed; never asked what started it. Purple lips, copper taste, cold sweat at his collar; I counted his breath while the room got smaller. Three-thirteen on the dash; sirens split silence. Twelve ticks vanish; the edit sanitizes violence. They cleaned the story till danger disappeared: Kept aftermath in focus, cut what brought us here. [H:repeat/dbls] [V3:stripped] Had a blade at my throat from a hand I'd helped through winter, Knew every scar; watched his grip grow tighter. He said, "Trust me," through his teeth; his promise turned to pressure. I read his shoulders, wrists, eyes - braced for the fracture. They call it paranoia; I call it pattern recognition; Same hands that passed the bread turned the kitchen to a prison. I won't polish up the panic, make a legend of shaking; Every second at that blade had something else it was taking. Heard my verdict in a room without a judge; Same surname on the jury, every whisper fed the grudge. They preached loyalty, then vanished when it mattered; Blood gave us one name; absence made us strangers. How do you call it shelter when the ceiling starts falling? Landlord sold us locks, took rent, called the flood an accident. Then filmed our wreckage like the cause was absent - Same clean frame, same missing piece, same edited evidence. [B:silence] You can survive the knife. Still spend your life removing it. Surgical precision: leave the evidence intact. You think I'm angry? I'm accurate. [F:double] Timecode discrepancy / edited treachery, Blade in the periphery / buried deliberately. Cause goes missing / consequence stays visible, Clean up the sequence / make the lie look clinical. Prescription dependency / packaged as remedy, Cross out where the pain began / chart it as recovery. Keep my confession in / no counterfeit innocence, Twelve seconds missing / I still finish the sentence. [FC:rebuild] I'm not chasing a name; put the whole sequence up: His hand, then my fist - don't absolve either of us. Leave the shake in my breathing, leave the fear in my face; Leave the frame where I swung, and what made me afraid. No halo in the footage. Don't clean either side. If I crossed the line, keep it; show what came before. My fist's in the footage; I won't edit it away; If evidence names me, I'll shoulder the blame. [FH:full/gang] CUT CLEAN! COUNT TWELVE! Make the missing time testify! ONE BREATH! NO FRAME! Watch the false story die! NO CROWN! NO HALO! No polished alibi; Show the cause before you judge the reply! CUT CLEAN! TWO SIDES! Let the whole night speak! Show the threat and the panic, the punch and the shriek! If the whole tape names me, leave my failure in sight - CUT CLEAN! COUNT TWELVE! Let the evidence bite! [O:clock/piano] He chose the cleanest picture. I kept the seconds he cut. He cut the truth to save his name. I cut my name to save the truth. (Tick. Tick.) Twelve seconds. (Silence.)