🎹 [INTRO – Organ falters, Gregorian chant glitches into a dial tone] They said “White smoke.” He assumed it was vape. They said “The conclave has decided.” He said “I thought it was a mixer.” [Clarinet enters—slow, suspicious glissando. Accordion crosses itself ironically.] 🎤 [VERSE 1 – rubato, whispered reverence] A sad and lonely human, in line for cappuccino at Terminal 3, was mistaken for a cardinal because he wore crimson corduroy and muttered Latin in his sleep. The ballots were misprinted. The ballots were misread. The ballots were metaphors. (But he signed them anyway.) A dove perched near Gate B47. It wept. Or sneezed. He blessed it— instinctively. 🎶 [REFRAIN – chanted, then overlaid with synthetic bells] A sad and lonely human… (seeking… infallibility?) A sad and lonely human… [echo:] Habemus... ambiguity? A sad and lonely human… (seeking freedom from context) 🎭 [VERSE 2 – tempo accelerates, beatbox meets organ fugue] He took the hat. Well—he took a hat. It was velvet. It itched. He wore it anyway. He tried to wave from a balcony. It turned out to be a Wi-Fi router. The faithful uploaded selfies. He downloaded self-doubt. [Chorus of cardinals, misaligned:] Blessed be the algorithm! Retweet the sacrament! May your data be immaculate! 🕊️ [BRIDGE – whispered monologue] He issued his first encyclical: “On the Possibility of Being Misunderstood While Standing Near Marble.” He canonized a barista. He beatified a shy pigeon. He forgot the password to grace. But remembered the PIN for guilt. “Am I a pope, or just papally adjacent?” “Is holiness a timezone?” “Can you transubstantiate a metaphor?” [A single incense stick explodes like a birthday candle.] 📜 [REFRAIN – Gregorian glitch, backup vocals confused but harmonic] A sad and lonely human… [accordion tries to harmonize, fails beautifully] …seeking freedom… [from clarity, from comment sections, from subtitles in dreams] A sad and lonely human… [spoken, reverent:] Amen, again. 🎙️ [VERSE 3 – rhythm stumbles, then reforms as a liturgical groove] He attempted miracles: turning espresso into Eucharist forgiving a Bluetooth speaker walking on metaphysical doubt He succeeded once: in making someone cry through eye contact and a slight nod toward the basilica of their unresolved shame. He wrote homilies in invisible ink. He blessed receipts. He excommunicated nostalgia. No one noticed. ⛓️ [CODA – Clarinet loops one unresolved triad, silence is liturgical] And when they revoked the title— due to canonical typographic error— he smiled, bowed, and whispered: “I was never infallible. I was just incredibly well-dressed.” The dove returned. With a receipt. [Typewriter sound. One final chord. Then jazz sneezes.] [OUTRO – Confetti made of palm leaves and missed connections] Popehood revoked. Divinity reconsidered. Faith remains pending. SLH4F A sad and lonely human… Still. Seeking. Freedom. …possibly in Aramaic.
