[Intro]

Fourteen shades of blue.
Monday hums; the monitors wake.
Phoenix loads its oldest lie:
Fourteen ways to miss one choice.

[Verse]

I open up the oldest screen,
A crowded map of what has been.
A gear means save, a star means send,
A door marked Start becomes the end.

The left-hand menu masks the right,
Help text blankets warning lights.
One checkbox opens one more view;
The whole room takes a colder hue.

[Pre-Chorus]

I trace each route in black and white:
Where does it bend? Where does it bite?
Each careful click exposes flaws,
Then seals the answer behind glass.

[Chorus]

Fourteen shades of blue,
Not one says what I have to do.
Each sign looks almost true;
The road keeps splitting into two.
Give me one clear way through
These fourteen shades of blue.

[Verse]

A button whispers; links command.
The danger state is soft and bland.
Billing calls itself Profile Two;
Search only searches user names.

A tooltip smothers half the form.
A modal opens one more storm.
My black book catches what they ask:
"Where is Save? Which record changed?"

[Chorus]

Fourteen shades of blue,
Each one swears its rule is true.
Every shortcut splits the queue;
Every patch creates two new.
I found the thread; I'll pull it through
These fourteen shades of blue.

[Instrumental Break]

[Bridge]

One color for the primary choice.
One warning with an honest voice.
One pattern learned, then used again.
A visible beginning and end.

[Build-up]

I mark the failures one by one.
I name the damage, not the hands.
The screen goes still beneath my pen.
One hard black line cuts through the noise.

[Final Chorus]

Fourteen shades of blue,
You hid the work the users knew.
Now every path can carry through;
Each choice declares what it will do.
Phoenix starts with one clear view,
Past fourteen shades of blue.

[Outro]

Two clipped notes beneath the screen.
One step rises, sharp and clean.
I shut the file at half past two,
Still dreaming in fourteen shades of blue.
