[Intro: Harpsichord and Synth]

I was born on a Monday in columns of green,
With three modest milestones and white space between.
The Roadmap Is a Living Document, tidy and new.
For six quiet hours, every date told the truth.

[Verse 1]

My first quarter promised a stable release,
A billing repair and two workflows made clean.
My second held lessons the research had found.
My third left the future deliberately unbound.

LEE-on drew arrows with practical care.
Each date had a reason; each team had a share.
I carried the "why" underneath every line.
No card wore a crown. The whole future was mine.

[Chorus]

The Roadmap Is a Living Document,
That's what they say when the old plan is gone.
I breathe through revisions; the dates wander on.
I bend till the reasons are broken or spent.
The Roadmap Is a Living Document—
But no one recalls what the living part meant.

[Verse 2]

Then Sales moved October to mid-April-May.
The board moved the launch to the end of the day.
Marketing changed every heading I wore.
Victor inserted "A-I" twenty times more.

By Tuesday I carried four swim-lanes marked "Now,"
Three parallel launches and no answer how.
My quarters became months; my months became weeks.
My goals turned to slogans that nobody speaks.

[Verse 3]

A duplicate card wore a fresh new disguise.
"Customer delight" covered technical lies.
A feature removed from the visible view
Returned under "Platform Experience Two."

Daniel asked, "Which file should engineering reed?"
LEE-on said, "The latest," then opened a feed.
PREE-yah found six plans all labelled complete.
Each one put regression on different weeks.

[Pre-Chorus]

I remember my purpose. I remember my frame.
But every revision still carries my name.
Each copy looks final. Each final looks bent.
Each author declares me a living document.

[Chorus]

The Roadmap Is a Living Document,
That's what they say when the old plan is gone.
I breathe through revisions; the dates wander on.
I bend till the reasons are broken or spent.
The Roadmap Is a Living Document—
But no one recalls what the living part meant.

[Keyboard Interlude]

[Spoken Breakdown]

"Final Roadmap." "Final Roadmap Two."
"Final Confirmed." "Final for Review."
"Final Approved with Project FEE-niks New Date."
"Final New Final." Uploaded at eight.

[Bridge]

Each timestamp's a woond. Every promise survives.
My cells keep expanding; my legend divides.
The future is living. The strategy's dead.
Five years of ambition get crushed into Q-Three instead.

[Build-up]

LEE-on scrolls downward. The quarters repeat.
My careful horizons compress into weeks.
The cursor keeps blinking. New rows volunteer.
I gain twelve new futures and lose the next year.

[Final Chorus]

The Roadmap Is a Living Document,
But life needs a boundary, body, and form.
Not every new panic should rewrite the norm.
I bent through revisions till purpose was spent.
The Roadmap Is a Living Document—
Now I'm proof of the places that nobody went.

[Outro]

I was born on a Monday with white space between.
By Thursday at midnight, I choke every screen.
The cursor keeps blinking. Another row appears.
My next stable quarter is three moving years.