[Intro] (plastic guitar clacking sounds, TV menu hum, nervous breathing) Green. Red. Yellow. Blue. Orange. I’ve been in this living room for six hours. [Build: chaotic dissonant tapping, heavy drums crashing in] [Verse 1] (anxious, spoken-word poetry, rapid-fire cadence) Staring at the screen till my retinas burn with the falling colored gems, Practicing the solo in slow-mo over and over again! Plastic frets clicking under calloused thumbs, While my mom yells from the kitchen that dinner's getting cold and done! I’m five hundred notes into a flawless run, Measuring my self-worth on a high score won—! [Chorus] (screaming, maximum distortion, chaotic and raw) ONE MISSED NOTE AND THE STREAK IS DEAD! PLASTIC CONTROLLER BROKEN OVER MY HEAD! YOU CAN'T REWIND WHEN YOU HIT THE WRONG FRET, PLAYING FOR AN AUDIENCE THAT DOESN'T EXIST YET! [Verse 2] (desperate, erratic tempo shifts, shifting between nervous whining and harsh yells) Star Power activated, but my hands are starting to cramp, Sweating through a hoodie like I’m standing on a real stage amp! "Why don't you learn a real guitar?" they ask from the door, While I’m screaming at a rock meter sinking to the floor! It’s not just a game, it’s a obsession with control, Pouring all my teenage panic in a plastic-molded hole—! [Bridge] (whispered, trembling, close to the mic, lonely high-pitched guitar loop) Look at the rock meter. It's flashing red. Ninety-nine percent. You choked on the last measure. [Building intensity] *RESTART SONG! RESTART SONG! AGAIN! AGAIN!* [Guitar Solo] (chaotic math-rock tapping, erratic rhythm changes, dizzying breakdown) [Outro] (descending heavy chords, fading into the clack of a strum bar and TV static) Failed. Try again. [Single heavy unresolved chord] [End]
