WALTER WHITE (solo)
Ed drove me north in a vacuum truck,
Buried me in New Hampshire like a live bug,
New name, new town, cancer growin’ back,
Watched my whole empire turn to smoke and ash.
I’d made my peace with how the story ends —
Then I saw that broadcast. Charlie Rose. Old friends.
Elliot and Gretchen, velvet chair, cold eyes:
“A mediocre man.” That’s the headline. That’s their prize.
No.
No, no, no —
I built an empire out of a diagnosis and a “no,”
Turned a chemistry set into a throne,
You don’t get to write the ending — the pen was never yours to own.
(the plan)
So here’s the last equation I design:
One rigged M60, wired precise, primed to align.
Cash for Gretchen — one condition, quiet, clean:
Get it to my son. Every year till he’s eighteen.
Todd — hollow, empty-eyed, wears my face like a badge,
Lydia — ice and stevia, dies from the tea, not a blade,
And Jack’s crew — wolves who took my partner, took my name,
I built the machine that made monsters — I’ll shut down the game.
(bridge — Jesse)
But somewhere in that clubhouse, chained up, starved down thin,
Is a kid I dragged to hell and never pulled back in.
I said I did it for me. God help me, that was true.
So the last thing I build with these hands — I build for you.
Not absolution.
Just a door left open. Just a chance to run. Just — out.
The only clean thing left in this whole account.
(final verse)
They’ll find me on that laboratory floor,
Hand on steel, not sorrow — reaching, one time more.
A chemist doesn’t die from cancer, doesn’t die from shame,
He dies still building, still becoming, still repeating his own name.
Say it — Heisenberg.
I didn’t do it for the money, didn’t do it for the fear,
I did it ’cause for once in my life I finally felt seen here.
Let them say I was a monster. Let them say I broke the rules.
Let them say I chose the ending — let them teach it in the schools.
Not out of reasons. Not out of fight.
Just out of road, on a New Hampshire winter night.
I built it.
It’s mine.
And I’ll be the one to watch it burn.
(Blackout.)