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A recorded reading of “The Grand Exit (That Never Came)”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
He tipped his hat, he struck his pose, he whispered, “Watch, the curtain close.” The music swelled, the lights went dim… but no one clapped, and time stood still. He’d planned the moment years ago, his final act, his perfect show. A last goodbye, a bow so deep, the kind that leaves the front row weeping. The stage was set, the lines rehearsed, a tragic, noble, parting verse. But when he stepped to take his leave, the door remained—a silent tease. Did I wait too long? Did I miss my cue? Did I write the script, or did it write me too? The curtains stay drawn, the stage remains set, but my grand exit hasn’t happened yet. I wait for the swell, the final refrain, but the world keeps turning, the role remains. He tapped his foot, he checked his watch, he pulled the lever, flipped the locks. The orchestra swelled, the spotlights beamed, but still, the ending stayed unseen. He waved again, he blew a kiss, he tried a bow more grand than this. He held the pause, the final beat… but still, the world refused to weep. Maybe endings aren’t a choice. Maybe silence has a voice. Maybe doors don’t always close— maybe curtains never fold. The curtains stay drawn, the stage remains set, but my grand exit hasn’t happened yet. I wait for the swell, the final refrain, but the world keeps turning, the role remains. Footsteps fade… then stop. A single breath. Then nothing.
Lyrics
He tipped his hat, he struck his pose, he whispered, “Watch, the curtain close.” The music swelled, the lights went dim… but no one clapped, and time stood still. He’d planned the moment years ago, his final act, his perfect show. A last goodbye, a bow so deep, the kind that leaves the front row weeping. The stage was set, the lines rehearsed, a tragic, noble, parting verse. But when he stepped to take his leave, the door remained—a silent tease. Did I wait too long? Did I miss my cue? Did I write the script, or did it write me too? The curtains stay drawn, the stage remains set, but my grand exit hasn’t happened yet. I wait for the swell, the final refrain, but the world keeps turning, the role remains. He tapped his foot, he checked his watch, he pulled the lever, flipped the locks. The orchestra swelled, the spotlights beamed, but still, the ending stayed unseen. He waved again, he blew a kiss, he tried a bow more grand than this. He held the pause, the final beat… but still, the world refused to weep. Maybe endings aren’t a choice. Maybe silence has a voice. Maybe doors don’t always close— maybe curtains never fold. The curtains stay drawn, the stage remains set, but my grand exit hasn’t happened yet. I wait for the swell, the final refrain, but the world keeps turning, the role remains.
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