[Intro]
[Instrumentation: clean guitar repeats one unresolved chord while muted strokes mark pen scratches]

[Verse 1]
After the alarm, the cups remain,
A cracked red straw, a coat, a chain.
Someone has swept the glass away,
But oil still marks the ambulance bay.
The cleaners move from door to door,
The screens restore the bed-count score.
A fresh white sheet, a polished rail—
The room looks ready to forget.

[Chorus]
After the alarm, what do we keep?
A name in ink, a line too neat.
After the alarm, who takes the blame
When forms turn people into claims?
The sound is gone, the harm remains—
We learn the language of erasing pain.

[Verse 2]
Gabriel’s sister answers first,
Her voice still carrying morning work.
She says, “He hates fluorescent light.
Please tell him I will come tonight.”
I grip the desk until it aches,
Then say the sentence no one makes
Without dividing time in two:
“Your brother died. I’m sorry. We…”

[Pre-Chorus]
The word “we” hangs above the line—
A ward, a fault, a pair of hands.
She asks, “Was someone by his side?”
I cannot make the silence kind.

[Chorus]
After the alarm, what do we keep?
A name in ink, a line too neat.
After the alarm, who takes the blame
When forms turn people into claims?
The sound is gone, the harm remains—
We learn the language of erasing pain.

[Verse 3]
The manager enters, perfume, grey,
And places printed words my way:
“Unexpected patient decline.”
“Equipment restored within design.”
She taps the box beside my name:
“Objective wording protects the team.”
I scan the phrase and hear again
The student bagging without relief.

[Bridge]
Objective: two nurses short.
Objective: no porter support.
Objective: overdue repair.
Objective: Gabriel needed air.
Objective: Leo needed me.

[Second Bridge]
Objective: paper disagrees.
Objective: the line went flat.
No adjective can alter that.

[Instrumental Break]
[Instrumentation: clean guitar repeats one unresolved chord while bass outlines the monitor motif]

[Final Chorus]
After the alarm, this is what I keep:
Gabriel Reyes, forty-three.
After the alarm, I write his name
Where “unexpected” hid the blame.
The sound is gone, the facts remain—
I will not help them bleach the page.

[Outro]
[Instrumentation: pen scratches are marked by muted guitar strokes]

I cross their sentence through in blue.
Then write the time: five forty-two.