Track 4: Brief stint on Washington's staff. He finds Washington cold/indecisive. Hamilton arrives and becomes the favorite.
Write this. Copy that.
Send this to Congress.
Where is the ink?
General, the British are moving.
I’m in the room where it happens? It’s boring as hell.
I thought I was hired to fight, not to spell.
General Washington, pardon my tone,
But I’m a field officer, give me a bone!
He looks through me like I’m a pane of glass
"Son, sit down, let the moment pass."
He wants a scribe. He wants a clerk.
He doesn't appreciate the nature of my work.
The Aide-de-Camp. The Aide-de-Camp.
Stuck in the office, lighting the lamp.
I want a command! I want a regiment!
Not a desk and a chair and a impediment!
Then *he* walks in.
Alexander.
Loud. Messy. A chaos commander.
"Washington, sir! I have a thousand ideas!"
And Washington smiles! He’s all ears!
They vibe. They click. It’s father and son.
And suddenly, my time here is done.
Hamilton writes like he’s running out of time?
I write with precision, with reason and rhyme.
But Washington likes the noise and the heat.
I’m too cold for the General’s seat.
Fine.
You want your favorite? Take him.
I’ll go back to the line.
I’ll go where the bullets are real.
Let Hamilton hold the quill.
I will hold the steel.
The Aide-de-Camp. The Aide-de-Camp.
I’m blowing out the candle, I’m breaking the lamp.
I quit.
I resign from the staff.
Let history write the epitaph.
I’m a soldier!
Send me to Putnam.