[Metadata] Genre: Orchestral Trap, 808 Grime Instruments: Gong, Trap Hi-Hats, Snare Drum, Timpani, Staccato Strings, Brass Ensemble, Choir Pads, Grand Piano, Orchestral Percussion, synthesized beatboxing, live audience, applause Vocals: male voice Vibe: Epiphanic Anger Mood: Anger, Lust *(Gong is a pervasive Percussive Undercurrent under the song)* *(instruments overpowers the lyrics throughout)* [silence] [Intro: Spoken Word, Male Voice] Oh... "FUCK YOU!!! Bring it on." [Audience applause, cheers] [Gong rings loud reverberating] (I) Then let thy love be younger than thyself, To prick the sides of my intent, but only I’ll charm the air to give a sound, Let still the woman take an elder than herself. (II) Look how my ring encompasseth thy finger, More strange than true, I never may believe; Thy words are madness, three parts coward, Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown. (III) The web of our life is of a mingled yarn, All strange and terrible events are welcome, There was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture, Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak. (IV) How bitter a thing it is to look into happiness, I like this place, and willingly could waste my time in it, The robbed that smiles steals something from the thief, My salad days, when I was green in judgment. (V) Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied, I am giddy; expectation whirls me round, Thought is free; yet words are wanting, Where the bee sucks, there suck I. (VI) O, how full of briars is this working-day world! My mind misgives some consequence yet hanging in the stars, Pleasure and action make the hours seem short, This is the very coinage of your brain. (VII) When we are born, we cry that we are come O villainy! Ho! Let the door be lock'd, 'Tis time to fear when tyrants seem to kiss, We know what we are, but know not what we may be. [outro] *(music plays on for a long time)*