[Intro]

The call just ended.
Noon is klohs.
Someone already wants
to soften what was said.

[Verse]

After the call, the room divides.
The private messages multiply.
A director writes, "Three weeks feels high.
Could we communicate mid-July?"

Rosa watches truth get trimmed
until the facts are pale and thin.
The plan that lived an hour ago
is being trained to sound like hope.

[Pre-Chorus]

She closes every edited line,
restores the owners and the time.
A date is not a calming phrase.
A timeline is the work it names.

[Chorus]

Tell them the real timeline,
every task and every sign.
Not the date that sounds benign—
tell them the real timeline.
Show the branch and show the test.
Trust can live with hard design.

[Verse]

Engineering sends the sequence through:
trace by Thursday, branch by Tuesday.
Review and memory-load repair,
masked test data waiting there.

Then leadership replies at once:
"Can we remove contingency?"
Rosa types, "Contingency
is part of technical reality."

[Pre-Chorus]

A promise without room to fail
will only build another tale.
The customer has heard enough.
The honest range must carry risk.

[Chorus]

Tell them the real timeline,
every task and every sign.
Not the date that flatters mine—
tell them the real timeline.
Show the risk we cannot compress.
Trust can live with hard design.

[Guitar Solo]

[Bridge]

The customer can measure pain.
They know delay. They know constraint.
What they cannot plan around
is confident, invented ground.

[Breakdown]

Three weeks.
Not "soon." Not "target." Not "aspire."
Three weeks—
with names, with tests, with fire.

[Build-up]

Rosa sends the document clean.
No hidden note, no marketing.
TitanBank replies: "We're reviewing this."
No warmth. But no more asking what it means.

[Final Chorus]

We told them the real timeline,
every task and every sign.
Trust is wounded, not resigned,
when you tell the real timeline.
Tell them. Stand there.
Do not hide.

[Outro]

Day one begins.

The owner pulls the logs.
Q-A requests the data.
The contract clock moves on.
