Composing the notes to our prescribed finale. The baton was raised we played. To a better tune with timing true. Crescendo to a discord measure. Allow me to welcome you to the peak of creation. We return to coda. We have to start all over. Taps set on repeat. When the orchestra has fallen. Drop the bombs on every line. On every page and - We sing in minor chords - Are we preaching to the choir? Is this "his" refrain? Composing with a malicious intent? No this is natural. We're just rising to descent. Staccato docents start to bloom (from chaos comes serenity). Under scope, wrong notes, white room (we've lost unique identity). And with the chorus let's resume (crescendoing). To a song that ends with you.