[Cold Open]
[Rhodes chord]
[Saxophone]
DAA—DA—DA—DA—DA.
[Voz muy grave]
Don’t clap yet.
I haven’t said
anything true.
[Drums enter softly]
[Verse 1 - 7/8]
There’s a table
near the stage
with three people
watching too closely.
One laughs
before the joke.
One checks his phone.
One looks at me
like he knows
why I came.
I say:
“Good evening.”
Easy.
Safe.
I say:
“Nice to be here.”
Safe again.
I say:
“I’m doing fine.”
[Sax descends]
DAA—DA—DA—DA—DA.
[Voz]
Oh, shut up.
[Crowd laughs]
No.
Really.
That wasn’t
for you.
[Verse continues]
I came here
to sing something
I couldn’t say
at home.
That sounded dramatic.
I hate dramatic.
[Sax descends]
DAA—DA—DA—DA—DA.
[Voz]
You too.
[Pre-Chorus]
[Rhodes + bass only]
I rehearsed
a better version.
Cleaner.
Smarter.
Less embarrassing.
Then I forgot it.
Good.
[Band stops]
[Voz en español]
Así que...
voy a decirlo mal.
[Full guitars enter]
[Chorus]
DON’T CLAP YET!
I’M STILL BLEEDING THROUGH THE LINE!
DON’T CLAP YET!
I HAVEN’T MADE IT SOUND NICE!
NO APLAUDAS TODAVÍA!
QUE NO HE TERMINADO!
SI MI VOZ SE ROMPE...
QUE SE ROMPA
DONDE PUEDAN OÍRLA!
Don’t clap yet.
Let me ruin
the pretty part first.
[Verse 2 - 4/4, harder rock groove]
I hurt somebody.
There.
Simple sentence.
No metaphor.
No weather.
No broken glass
in the rain.
I hurt somebody.
Not by leaving.
Worse.
By staying
and being somewhere else.
By answering:
“Nothing.”
When there was
obviously something.
By making silence
do all the dirty work
so I could still
call myself kind.
[Sax begins descending]
DAA—
[Voz gritada]
NO.
Not this one.
[Sax stops mid-phrase]
[Silence]
[Voz]
Let me finish.
[Drums wait]
I made her feel lonely
while sitting
right beside her.
[Cellar-room silence]
There.
That’s the sentence.
[One snare hit]
[Chorus]
DON’T CLAP YET!
I’M STILL BLEEDING THROUGH THE LINE!
DON’T CLAP YET!
I HAVEN’T MADE IT SOUND NICE!
NO APLAUDAS TODAVÍA!
QUE NO HE TERMINADO!
SI MI VOZ SE ROMPE...
QUE SE ROMPA
DONDE PUEDAN OÍRLA!
[Break - jazz section, but voice leads]
[Walking bass]
[Brushes]
[Tenor sax improvises softly]
[Voz baja]
I called her
last Thursday.
She answered.
That surprised me.
I said:
“I’m sorry.”
She said:
“For what?”
Worst question
in the language.
Because suddenly
“everything”
is too lazy an answer.
[Rhodes chord]
So I told her.
One thing.
Then another.
Then another.
No excuses.
No:
“But you also—”
No:
“I was going through—”
Just:
I did this.
And it hurt you.
[Voz en español]
Y no hay música
que lo haga más bonito.
[Sax sustains one note]
Good.
Stay there.
[Bridge - instruments almost disappear]
[Voz]
She didn’t forgive me.
Not yet.
Maybe never.
And this is the part
where a normal song
would give me
some beautiful lesson.
[Small laugh]
I don’t have one.
[Band completely silent]
I just know
saying the truth late
is still better
than dying
with the polished version.
[Long breath]
[Final build starts only after breath]
[Drums rise]
[Guitar feedback]
[Sax tries the five-note fall]
DAA—
[Voz]
Not this time.
[Everything cuts]
[A cappella]
No aplaudas.
No todavía.
Porque esta parte...
es mía.
[Full band explodes]
[Final Chorus]
DON’T CLAP YET!
LET ME SAY IT WITHOUT A RHYME!
DON’T CLAP YET!
I WAS WRONG!
I WASTED TIME!
NO APLAUDAS TODAVÍA!
¡NO ME HAGAS HÉROE AHORA!
YO NO VINE
A QUEDAR BIEN!
VINE A SACAR
LO QUE ME AHOGA!
[Brass hits]
I HURT HER!
[Band answers]
HEY!
I KNEW IT!
[Band]
HEY!
I HID IT!
[Band]
HEY!
AND NOW—
[Voice cracks into scream]
I’M DONE
MAKING UGLY THINGS
SOUND BEAUTIFUL!
[Hard stop]
[Outro]
[Only sax]
DAA—DA—DA—DA—DA.
[Voz, agotada]
Okay.
Now you can clap.
