**(A continuous, four-note loop of a fuzzy, distorted bassline. A dry, mechanical drum machine beat locks in, all kick and a loud, clattering snare on the 2 and 4. The sound is oppressive and monotonous.)** **(Vocal: Deadpan, spoken-word, delivered with the energy of someone reading a grocery list into a malfunctioning intercom.)** **(Section 1:)** The smoke alarm is beeping. That means it's working. A small,blue flame on the stovetop of my potential. I meant to make...toast. Now the curtains are involved. It's not a crisis. It's a...structural renovation. An open-plan concept. The neighbours are concerned. I wave from the new skylight. **(A single, dissonant guitar stab rings out and fades. The bass and drum loop never wavers.)** **(Section 2:)** My filing system is pre-heating the downstairs bathroom. All my important documents. My gym membership. My potential. They make excellent...kindling. The fire department is on its way. I hope they bring a cake. It's the anniversary of my decline. One year since the foundation...sighed. **(A break: The drum machine stops abruptly. The bass loop continues alone. A subtle, eerie synth pad swells underneath, sounding like a ghost passing through.)** **(Spoken Bridge:)** You can see the glow from three blocks away. They say it looks like a sunset. I say it's just my personal brand. Achieving maximum visibility. Through strategic decomposition. **(The mechanical drum beat crashes back in, louder and more relentless.)** **(Section 3:)** The stairs are a suggestion. The roof is more of a...theory. I am the sole remaining occupant. And the arsonist. And the confused real estate agent. It's not a failure. It's a...controlled burn of my liabilities. My credit score is melting. It looks better as a liquid. **(Another single, feedback-laced guitar stab. The synth pad swells again briefly, then is swallowed by the noise.)** **(Outro:)** The beams are singing. A very minimalist song. One note. It's a B-flat of regret. The alarm has stopped beeping. It has achieved its final form. A small,black puddle. Much like my ambition. The glow is fading. To a dull,orange ember. Which is fine. Which is...acceptable. Which is... **(The bass and drum loop continues for four more bars, then cuts off abruptly, leaving only the faint ring of feedback.)**
