[Intro - Solemn, Mournful Funeral Organ and Slow, Echoing Church Bells, Suddenly Cut by a Lighter Click and a Heavy Phonk Cowbell Rhythm] [Raspy, close-mic whisper through exhaled smoke] Quiet rooms... veiled mourners... Some people spend their whole lives running from death. I grew up decorating it. [Verse 1 - Heavy 808 Sub-Bass Drops, Gritty Cowbell Melody, & A Smooth Phonk Bounce] Daughter of the undertaker, raised among the dead, Learning early on how easily a human thread Is snipped and silenced in a quiet, solemn room, While kids outside were playing in the afternoon. They thought their gossip and their bullying would break my spine, Pushing me too far across a fragile, cruel line. So I filled the school corridors with toxic, choking cloud, Turning all their laughter to a terrified, gasping crowd! [Pre-Chorus - The Organ Melodies Swell Back In Underneath the Bass] [Smooth, unbothered cadence] Cigarette burning down as the precise conduit, Pyro-Nicotine flowing right through it! Vivid hallucinations in a smoky haze, Ending all their taunts in a permanent daze! [Chorus - Maximum Phonk Groove: Heavy Sub-Bass, Cowbells, and Haunting Dirge Chords] [Fierce, rhythmic, effortless flow] SMOKE'S FADE! A private wake upon the street! Bringing every self-righteous hero to their feet—then beat! Sharp under-eye makeup and a tailored black attire, Turning all their lectures to a funeral pyre! They wanted a tearful apology on bended knee, I lit a cigarette and laughed at their hypocrisy! No remorse, no regrets, walking out the door, Leaving polite society bleeding on the floor! [Verse 2 - Gritty Phonk Rhythm Continues, Hi-Hats Hissing Like Smoke] High-mobility clothes and a hidden ankle blade, Moving through the shadows of the bed I made. Nicotine levels dictating the smoke density and weight, Solidifying weapons to seal a hero's fate. They demanded discipline, obedience, and shame, So I traded normal life to play a darker game. The city is a graveyard and the heroes think they're smart, Until my toxic smoke wraps tightly round their heart. [Bridge - Stripped Back, Just the Mournful Organ and a Heavy Lighter Flick] [Low, intimate, chilling whisper] You wanted me to say I was sorry... [A sudden, heavy drop of distorted 808 sub-bass and a sharp exhale] ...I prefer a closed-casket service instead. [Final Chorus - Maximum Phonk Intensity & Heavy Cowbell Drop] SMOKE'S FADE! A private wake upon the street! Bringing every self-righteous hero to their feet—then beat! Sharp under-eye makeup and a tailored black attire, Turning all their lectures to a funeral pyre! They wanted a tearful apology on bended knee, I lit a cigarette and laughed at their hypocrisy! No remorse, no regrets, walking out the door, Leaving polite society bleeding on the floor! [Outro - Slow Phonk Beat Fading Out into Echoing Church Bells and Exhaled Smoke Sound] [Cool, raspy whisper] Rest in peace. [Final heavy church bell ring and absolute silence]
