[Intro: Rigid Drill Command / Sparse Classical Tension] (Chords: Dm | Dm | Bb | A. Dry marching snare, boots, low cello staccato. One voice only. No guitar wall yet.) Sit straight. Talk nice. Smile right. Be grateful. [Hard Stop] (Everything cuts.) Yeah. I tried that. [Verse 1: Restrained Cadence] (Chords: Dm | Bb | F | C, repeat. Low spoken-shout in strict pulse. Snare and bass lead; clipped guitar enters only at line endings.) Wrote “fuck off.” Sent “no worries.” Deleted three whole lines and left a smiley. “Such a nice guy.” Yeah, I can be. When did “can” turn into “have to be”? You liked me better house-trained. Soft voice. No demands. Now it’s “true colors” ‘cause I won’t sit on command. [Pre-Chorus: Pressure Rising] (Chords: Gm | Bb | Dm | A. Strings climb in short dissonant figures. Group begins answering the final words.) Don’t tell me what’s “like me.” You only met what I let outside. I CHOSE TO KEEP IT DOWN. DON’T GET IT TWISTED. [Chorus: Full Drill C&R / Hardcore Burst] (Chords: Dm | Bb | F | C / Dm | Bb | Gm | A. Lead calls; rough male group answers. Full punk guitars, stomping kick, marching snare. Brief double-kick only on the last two lines.) YOUR GOOD BOY? THAT WAS YESTERDAY! Keep your fucking script. I’ve got shit to say. My mouth. My noise. My ugly little joys. My calm. My rage. MY FUCKING STAGE! I WAS BEING NICE. NOT ASKING PERMISSION. DON’T LIKE THIS SIDE? GET USED TO THE VIEW. [Verse 2: Forward Cadence] (Chords: Dm | C | Bb | A. Strip back to bass, snare and clipped guitar. Keep the words dry and fast.) I can write a love song. I can make the speakers choke. Cry through the credits. Laugh at my own dumb joke. The soft part wasn’t fake. This part isn’t new. I’m not a fucking plot twist just because it’s news to you. [Pre-Chorus 2: Tightening] (Chords: Gm | Bb | Dm | A. Add tense violin and low guitar chugs.) You call this “out of character.” I call it getting a word in. YOU DON’T MISS ME. YOU MISS THE LEASH. [Chorus: Bigger C&R] (Chords: Dm | Bb | F | C / Dm | Bb | Gm | A. Same rhythm, wider group response, no melodic smoothing.) YOUR GOOD BOY? THAT WAS YESTERDAY! Keep your fucking script. I’ve got shit to say. My mouth. My noise. My ugly little joys. My calm. My rage. MY FUCKING STAGE! I WAS BEING NICE. NOT ASKING PERMISSION. DON’T LIKE THIS SIDE? GET USED TO THE VIEW. [Breakdown: Pure Drill Cadence] (Chords: Dm pedal. Remove strings. Boots, snare, bass and palm-muted chugs only. Lead asks; group answers. Short death-growl double only on “SAGE!” and “FUCK, YES.”) SAGE! Nice guy? SOMETIMES. Gentleman? MY CHOICE. Artist? FUCK, YES. Asshole? ASK AROUND. [Break: Total Stop] (No chord. No drums. One dry voice.) Pick one. [Group Hit] (Dm stab.) NO. [Low Unison] (Chords: Dm | Bb | Gm | A. Slow the delivery, not the tempo.) THERE’S MORE THAN ONE OF ME. AND NONE OF THEM ARE YOURS. [Bridge: Exposed Self-Definition] (Chords: Bb | F | C | Dm / Bb | Gm | A | A. Piano, cello and voice first; drums return line by line.) I can still be kind. I can still be soft. I can hold the door and tell you to fuck off. Same hands. Same heart. Same guy. MY CALL. [Final Chorus: Collective Takeover] (Chords: Dm | Bb | F | C / Dm | Bb | Gm | A. Full Hardcore Punk drive. Group responses huge but dry. Classical strings become fast counterpoint, not a symphonic pad. One final death-metal burst under the last line only.) YOUR GOOD BOY? THAT WAS YESTERDAY! Keep your fucking script. I’ve got shit to say. My mouth. My noise. My ugly little joys. My calm. My rage. MY FUCKING STAGE! I WAS BEING NICE. NOT ASKING PERMISSION. I KEEP THE KINDNESS. YOU KEEP THE FUCKING COLLAR. [Outro: Abrupt Dry Ending] (Chord: Dm. Instruments stop after the first sentence.) …That more like me? Don’t answer.
