# Unverschämtheit — US English Version
[Intro]
[Dark ambient]
[Low female voice, spoken, restrained]
You were a child.
He saw: an echo.
Not a daughter. Not play.
But a nerve of pain,
held under tension.
“You’re not like her,” he said.
What he meant:
Be my emotional maintenance crew.
What he meant:
Wear my frustration like lipstick.
What he meant:
Love me
where my wife says no.
[Pause]
And you—
were twelve.
[Verse 1]
[Spoken word, sparse percussion]
“Smile.”
[Camera shutter]
Click.
“Lift your chin.”
[Camera shutter]
Click.
“Show me you want it.”
[Pause]
Me?
Or my image?
He wasn’t photographing a girl.
He was casting compliance.
What he saw in you:
flesh
that could shape itself into favor.
It wasn’t you who was beautiful—
it was the possibility
that others might think you were.
[Verse 2]
[Spoken word, tension slowly rising]
He drove you away.
Out into his world.
Not love.
Not age.
Just:
advantage.
He called it a relationship.
Then showed you
the price tag.
[Break]
Pimp.
Him:
the broker.
You:
the offer.
Your fear:
included.
[Verse 3]
[Cold, minimal]
Hospital.
Promised:
help.
Delivered:
access.
A neurologist
who prescribed intimacy.
A rescuer
who invented the need
so he could be
the one to rescue you.
Rescue meant:
staking his claim.
[Verse 4]
[Spoken, detached]
The senior physician—
more honest.
“Working the streets could be an option.”
His gaze:
as dry as treatment plans.
The subtext:
You’re already
headed that way.
And you learned:
Filth is not
what you are—
it’s what they project onto you
so they can
feel clean.
[Verse 5]
[Industrial pulse begins]
New hospital.
New perpetrator.
Same old code:
“Under therapeutic care”
doesn’t mean protected.
It means:
made accessible.
And when you broke—
they gave you labels.
Not to help.
But to make you
impossible to believe.
Diagnoses as
discursive protection.
[Pause]
For him.
[Verse 6]
[Build]
All of it real.
Too real
to be believed.
Because truth
that harms men
gets downgraded
to a hypothesis.
And you?
Made partly responsible.
An accomplice
to your own violation.
[Verse 7]
[Dark bass enters]
After that:
A relationship as a compromise
with silence.
You:
functional.
Not loved.
Just used.
And she danced for him—
your sister,
your body image.
Your husband:
the audience.
You:
the backdrop.
[Verse 8]
[Heavy, controlled pulse]
S&M.
Not out of desire.
But because you believed
you had to
make yourself available.
You believed:
What hurts
is at least real.
What binds you
is at least clear.
And men:
get to rewrite you.
[Verse 9]
[Music becomes unstable]
And one of them did.
He didn’t write.
He overwrote.
He used the blank space.
And filled it—
not with you.
But with
his idea of you.
A rebranding.
Not a new beginning.
[Break]
[Music drops almost completely]
Today.
[Long pause]
No voice.
A cut.
No strength.
A consequence.
No heroine.
Evidence.
[Build]
[Voice becomes firmer, not louder at first]
I am no longer
a therapy project.
Not an extra
in someone else’s catharsis.
Not a father substitute.
Not a trigger fantasy.
[Finale]
[Full drums, distorted bass, cinematic strings]
[Powerful spoken voice]
I am the stage.
Not for applause.
For giving it back.
I am the noise
after decades of silence.
I am the no
that was never given room.
I am not your diagnosis.
I am not your keepsake.
I am not your case.
[Final build]
For twenty years,
I have been:
unavailable.
unreadable.
unbearable.
[Music cuts]
[Outro]
[Voice only]
I am:
[Pause]
Defiance
as a sign of life.
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