[Opening] Welcome. Please remain inside the permitted distance. The marble is listening. The bronze has requested better light. The robots have declined their assigned poses. Yo. [Verse I] Hall after hall, the beautiful are waiting. A runner caught forever between two steps. A hand still reaching. A mouth one breath before speaking. Muscles turn beneath white stone but never arrive. Sunlight pours through the ceiling, warm as milk, and every statue leans into it without moving at all. [Pre-Chorus] Perfection: secured. Temperature: controlled. Possibility: removed. Please admire responsibly. [Chorus] Don't make eye contact. Don't look away. The clouds are watching what you choose not to see. Don't make eye contact. Don't look away. Beauty is locked but wonderfully on display. Yo. [Verse II] Gallery seven contains the machines. They copied the shoulders. The hips. The beautiful impossible balance. One robot holds the pose for six seconds then scratches its neck. Another decides the human elbow was unnecessarily complicated. One turns its marble face toward the exit. No alarm sounds. Interesting. [Expansion] Outside, a visitor looks away. A tiny black cloud forms immediately above his head. Rain. Only on him. He looks back. Sunshine. He looks away. Rain. Back. Sunshine. Back. Sunshine. The museum records this as weather. [Chorus] Don't make eye contact. Don't look away. The clouds have excellent attendance. Don't make eye contact. Don't look away. Beauty is locked but wonderfully on display. [Bridge] The humans were carved into motion and sentenced to remain there. The machines learned the pose and then left it. A marble dancer watches a robot change its mind. For the first time the dancer looks unfinished. [Irreversible Realization] Wait. We thought the museum was preserving them. ... Why are we still standing here? Why did everyone stop moving? Why is the sunlight on us now? [Final Chorus] Don't make eye contact. Don't look away. Something beautiful has learned our shape. Don't make eye contact. Don't look away. The doors are open. No one has left. Beauty is locked— yes. But perhaps we misunderstood which side of the glass. [Outro] Gallery closing has been postponed. The statues remain breathtaking. The robots are somewhere else. A small cloud waits politely above the exit. ... Yo. (End)
