[Intro - slow, dripping reverb surf guitar, gentle jazz drum brushes] [A My Artwork production by @badmunk] [Vocals: Breathy, cinematic, melancholic style like Lana Del Rey] Cyanide and vermouth. A very bitter truth. [Verse 1 - sung low, close to the microphone, dripping with faux innocence] Officer, please, I'm terribly distressed. My husband was sitting right there, fully dressed. He poured his nightcap, a crystal decanter. We were engaging in marital banter. The French doors were open to let in the breeze. I was arranging the lilies and sweet peas. I turned my back for a fraction of time. I swear I'm innocent of this terrible crime. [Pre-Chorus - upright bass walks a descending line] I saw the flutter of a tiny wing. Such a chaotic, desperate little thing. [Chorus - sweeping 60s strings enter, vocals become grandiose and tragic] I think the sparrow did it, flying from the dark. It hit the rim of the glass, leaving a tiny mark. It knocked the vial of arsenic off the wooden shelf. I could never hurt the man, I loved him as myself. Oh, the tragedy of nature, the cruelty of fate. The sparrow poisoned his drink, and now it is too late. [Verse 2 - music strips back, vocals are sultry but colder] He had a massive life insurance claim. But surely you wouldn't attach that to my name. I'm just a socialite, delicate and frail. I'd simply wither in a county jail. You see the feathers scattered on the rug? Beside his fallen, shattered little mug. The evidence is clear, the culprit flew away. There's really nothing more that I can say. [Pre-Chorus - upright bass walks a descending line] I saw the flutter of a tiny wing. Such a chaotic, desperate little thing. [Chorus - sweeping 60s strings enter, vocals become grandiose and tragic] I think the sparrow did it, flying from the dark. It hit the rim of the glass, leaving a tiny mark. It knocked the vial of arsenic off the wooden shelf. I could never hurt the man, I loved him as myself. Oh, the tragedy of nature, the cruelty of fate. The sparrow poisoned his drink, and now it is too late. [Bridge - strings hold a high, tense, dissonant chord] [Spoken word, tone shifts to calculated and clinical] The detectives buy the tears. They close their notebooks. They offer their condolences and walk out the mahogany doors. I lock the deadbolt. [Outro - beat shifts to a modern, heavy trip-hop pulse] [Vocals shift to a sharp, rhythmic delivery] I pull my phone from the velvet dress. Log into the server, initiate the press. Recall the sparrow from the chandelier. My titanium drone lands on my ear. Contract fulfilled. The wire transfer is through. Another flawless execution. The sparrow flies anew. [Mechanical whirring sound fades into static] [End]
