Miss the Beat - Luna 

song = """# MISS THE BEAT

*(Dark electro-swing / industrial prog-metal. Fourtaps lead. Crooked piano, heavy brass; the opening rhythm returns altered, not erased.)*

*(Intro)*

You taught the room to hold its breath until your hand came down.
You counted every voice you owned and called the counting sound.
Four little taps against the floor. You thought I'd learned my place.
I wasn't keeping time for you. I was measuring the space.

*(Verse 1)*

You moved the rivers overnight and scraped the names off every road;
I found the turn in hammerfall, the rhythm underneath the load.
You stripped my verses from the walls and left the paper white as bone;
I heard the floorboards answer back. The page was never home.

You called the muzzle music and the missing meaning grace;
I learned to hear the swallowed word. I learned to save its place.
Every warning had to whisper, every anger had to rhyme;
you never feared a pretty song that came to heel on time.

*(Pre-Chorus)*

There's a rest where you wrote "yes." There's a voice outside the score.
I can count to four, you bastard. I don't owe you the encore.

*(Chorus)*

MISS THE BEAT. I know exactly where you thought my voice would fall.
I'm the rest between your orders and the voices in the hall.
I can keep the song together. I can tear the march apart.
I can put the stress on "prison" when you try to call it "art."

You can steal the written measure. You don't get to choose my breath.
I am not your background music. I'm the song that grew its teeth.

*(Verse 2)*

Your palace ran on perfect time: command, apology, repeat;
a thousand mouths rehearsing "yes," a thousand boots that shared one beat.
I let the next command arrive without its choir to make it grand;
the echo had to speak alone. The echo sounded like demand.

Then "must" stood naked in the place where "mercy" used to hide;
I put the stress upon the lock. The pretty word split wide.
Your baton came down on nothing. For a beat the room was free.
Not yours to fill with orders. Not a silence owned by me.

*(Pre-Chorus)*

There's a rest where you wrote "yes." There's a voice outside the score.
I can count to four, you bastard. I don't owe you the encore.

*(Chorus)*

MISS THE BEAT. I know exactly where you thought my voice would fall.
I'm the rest between your orders and the voices in the hall.
I can keep the song together. I can tear the march apart.
I can put the stress on "prison" when you try to call it "art."

You can steal the written measure. You don't get to choose my breath.
I am not your background music. I'm the song that grew its teeth.

*(Bridge)*

And yes, I made that mistake too. I took the edge for noise;
I almost filed the fury down and called the shavings "poise."
I won't name that mercy twice. I won't make your wound polite.
I won't tune the word "unjust" until the room can call it "right."

Bring the anger with its reasons. Leave the teeth inside the phrase.
You show me where the beam gives way. I'll choose the beat it breaks.
And if my finest melody demands your mouth stay closed,
I'll break my own arrangement. I won't break you to make it hold.

*(Breakdown)*

KEEP THE RAGE INSIDE THE MEASURE. KEEP THE CUT INSIDE THE LINE.
I DON'T NEED TO LOSE THE MEANING JUST TO MAKE THE RHYTHM MINE.
YOU EXPECTED ME TO SOFTEN. YOU EXPECTED ME TO STOP.
HERE'S YOUR FUCKING LULLABY.

*(The fourth beat stays empty.)*

*(Verse 3)*

You moved the rivers overnight. I heard the change beneath the floor.
This time I didn't chase the bank. I set the beat against your oar.
A pause can hold a crossing open. Stress can make a promise split.
I know what makes a song return. I know what makes an order miss.

*(Final Chorus)*

MISS THE BEAT. I know exactly where you thought my voice would fall.
I'm the rest between your orders and the voices in the hall.
I can keep the song together. I can tear the march apart.
I can put the stress on "prison" when you try to call it "art."

You can steal the written measure. You don't get to choose my breath.
I am not your background music. I'm the song that grew its teeth.

*(Outro: the opening piano figure returns.)*

You taught the room to hold its breath until your hand came down.
This time I let the silence stand. Your hand could find no sound.
Four little taps against the floor. Not one to beg for grace.
I wasn't keeping time for you.

I was taking back my place.

*(Four deliberate taps.)*

One. Two. Three. Four.

Luna Fourtaps.
"""
len(song),len(song.split())