[Intro — spoken, low, close to the mic, single violin bowing a slow minor chord underneath] Frustration in my bones wanting to be left alone. [Pre-verse — the violins multiply, one becomes ten, ten becomes a thousand, a thousand becomes a million, all bowing the same note, swelling] [Verse 1 — beat drops, string swarm holds] Rage played with one million little violins — a whole symphony of pins, every bow a nerve you didn’t know you had, every string a memory of every time you drove me mad. Voodoo in the score, you feel every pin, one million violins playing where you’ve been. Your charm means bullshit is trying to lose out, but I already know what you’re all about. The whole orchestra knows — they read your sheet music. Every second violin saw you turn abusive. The cellos rolled their eyes, the violas held their ground, one million little violins made the only truth sound. [Verse 2 — half-spoken over the beat, strings tighten, pizzicato on every syllable] Frequency calls into the anxiety of the pit of my belly watching you walk out of the hell of smelly deli — fuck your Idiocracy. I don’t even know if that’s a word, that fictional cup of tea, but you have no common sense as you lurk over everybody’s fucking fence. The million violins hum where your conscience should be. The million violins hum what you refuse to see. Every one of them tuned to the exact same key — the key of you finally leaving me be. [Verse 3 — tempo tightens, delivery gets colder, strings crescendo] You’re a creeper. I’ll kick you with my fucking sneaker claiming you’re all that — that’s why you got a big old truck because your little fella’s wearing the KKK hat. What’s that mean — uncircumcised you fucking little keem. [Verse 4 — the closing verdict, spoken flat and final over pizzicato stabs] Tell him I won’t see you tomorrow and no you can’t borrow. Not my time, not my body, not my daughter, not my sorrow. Tell him the answer is the same today as it’ll be tomorrow — no. No borrowed hour. No borrowed hope. No borrowed rope to hang me with one more time. The million violins already played that rhyme. [Solo violin cadenza — beat drops out completely, all 999,999 violins fall silent, one solo violin plays alone for 20 seconds, aching, minor key, vibrato-rich, slightly out of tempo, like a human voice crying without words. This is the sound of what she cannot say. Let it breathe. Let it hurt. Do not rush it.] [Bridge — spoken over the returning solo violin, no beat, other strings begin to hum back in one at a time] I refuse to even say your name because I will never fucking play your game. My bubble — you’ll never answer with your fucking little splinter. One million little violins know every lie you told. One million little violins sing every truth I hold. The whole symphony is mine now — you don’t get a bow. You don’t get a chair. You don’t get a row. [Outro — beat drops back in one last time, whispered then final line spat clean, then all million violins hold one long dissonant chord]
