[Intro — thin ceremonial organ; a microphone clicks; spoken politely] Please rise. For public service. Please lower your voice. [Verse 1 — dry, clipped delivery over a crooked bass groove] September, oh-six. Leave with pay. Two classes learn another voice. The panel never takes its seats. Retirement closes the review. Steven Jones. The link still works. His fusion papers fill the list. I came to ask about the gap. You tell me why the list exists. [Pre-Chorus — guitars tighten; voice stays almost courteous] A good teacher. A bad reflection. Tell me which one needed correction. [Chorus — full band; ceremonial voices answer the lead] PLEASE RISE— FOR PUBLIC SERVICE. PLEASE LOWER YOUR FUCKING VOICE. I ASKED FOR THE RECORD. YOU ASKED FOR MY TONE. DON’T CALL IT ANSWERED JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE DONE. [Verse 2 — the organ returns beneath short, stabbing chords] April. Bring the robes back out. The microphones all work that day. Richard Cheney. Public service. A hood. A hand. A camera flash. The program tells me when to stand. I fold it till the corners bite. One name waits behind a link. One name gets the room to rise. [Pre-Chorus — two statements, separated by silence] The panel never gathered. The ceremony did. [Chorus — louder; the polite backing voices remain perfectly composed] PLEASE RISE— FOR PUBLIC SERVICE. PLEASE LOWER YOUR FUCKING VOICE. I ASKED FOR THE RECORD. YOU ASKED FOR MY TONE. DON’T CALL IT ANSWERED JUST BECAUSE YOU’RE DONE. [Interlude — clean guitar; almost spoken] Another September eleventh. Same face inside the frame. She wipes the glass with her sleeve. We argue over phrasing. [Bridge — a second voice, dry and close; the band cuts out] You asked what happened to the man. I graded how you asked. I kept repeating “careful” till the question came back small. You said, “Nobody cares.” I corrected “nobody.” I had an answer for every word but why. [Breakdown — half-time; both voices; each question hits alone] DO. YOU. CARE? PULL UP A CHAIR. DO. YOU. CARE? THEN STAY. [Instrumental — the ceremonial organ tries to restart; the drums interrupt it] [Final Chorus — full band; the backing choir begins to fracture] PLEASE RISE— FOR PUBLIC SERVICE. PLEASE LOWER YOUR FUCKING VOICE. I ASKED FOR THE RECORD. YOU ASKED FOR MY TONE. THE APPLAUSE IS OVER. THE QUESTION’S STILL HERE. [Outro — everything cuts except the room microphone] I’m still asking.
