[Intro]
[Tom-heavy drums and distorted bass strike; the harmonium motif is cut off after two notes.]

“Before we begin,
A minor alignment
Regarding your title.”

[Verse 1]
The partner arrives with a folder and smile,
Then praises my effort in managerial style.
“Your knowledge is strong, though your tone can be grim.
Your stakeholder handling requires further trim.”
He slides me a badge with a pale yellow band:
Junior Consultant, External Demand.
Nine worlds once listened when I raised my hand.
Now I need supervision to enter the stand.

[Pre-Chorus]
He says, “Titles are symbols; don’t take this to heart.”
A god knows a symbol can tear worlds apart.
He says, “Think of growth and the value ahead.”
I think of the warnings his red pen left dead.

[Chorus]
Allfather, junior consultant,
One eye gone, no senior appointment.
Allfather, junior consultant,
Truth made safe for executive enjoyment.
They bought my warning, removed the fault,
Then filed my sacrifice under default.

[Verse 2]
He orders the ravens to report through his team.
He shortens the flood to a “liquidity theme.”
He turns Fenrir’s jaws to a market concern.
He asks me to smile while the nine worlds burn.
I look at the badge and the cheap plastic face.
My name has been lowered; the lie keeps its place.
Then Munin sends one hidden file to my screen:
The prophecy whole, unapproved and unseen.

[Pre-Chorus]
The partner says, “Odin, we need you aligned.”
I answer, “Alignment is not being blind.”
He says, “Your career can recover in time.”
I open the master deck. Slide ninety-nine.

[Chorus]
Allfather, junior consultant,
One eye gone, no senior appointment.
Allfather, junior consultant,
Truth made safe for executive enjoyment.
They bought my warning, removed the fault,
Then filed my sacrifice under default.

[Instrumental Break]
[Distorted guitar repeats the three-note motif as toms move from disciplined office rhythm into an uneven battle pulse.]

[Bridge]
I once paid dearly to know what would be.
Today they pay poorly to disagree.
But rank is a chair and a title is tape.
Neither can alter the teeth of a fate.
I restore every name and each terrible word.
Then grant presentation rights to each bird.

[Break]
[Manager]
“Remove that slide.”

[Odin]
“No.”

[Manager]
“That is not your decision.”

[Odin]
“Now it is.”

[Build-up]
The lanyard tightens. I tear it away.
The screen asks whether I want changes to stay.
Hugin says, “Save.” Munin says, “Send.”
I click on the file marked UNEDITED END.

[Final Chorus]
Allfather, junior consultant—
No more need for your senior appointment.
Allfather, junior consultant—
I will not trade truth for your enjoyment.
You bought my hours, not what I know.
You cut my title; I cut the show.

[Outro]
The partner reaches to shut down the screen.
Gungnir falls between us, balanced and clean.
No blood is drawn. No threat is sent.
I take the cable—and the presentation.
