[Intro — spoken, quietly confident] Alright, team. I've got this. …I've absolutely not got this. Let's begin. [Verse 1 — bouncy, awkward energy] Queue up the match, put me on the hunt, I'm the killer now, so prepare for a stunt! I check every corner, I swing at the air, The survivors are laughing, I'm questioning my care. I lose every chase, I forget every trick, I walk into walls, and my reactions are thick. I've got all the power, I've got all the tools, But somehow I'm the one getting played like a fool! [Pre-Chorus] My K/D is tragic, my aim is a crime, I'm doing so poorly it's a pantomime. Then something starts buzzing in the back of my brain… Oh no. Not this feeling again. [Chorus] I'M NO KILLER AT ALL! I trip on my feet, I run into walls! But SOMETIMES I LOCK IN, SOMETIMES I SNAP, And suddenly the whole darn lobby's taking a nap! I'M NO KILLER AT ALL! I miss every swing, I'm incredibly small! Then I wipe the whole squad and I clutch the endgame— AND I SWEAR TO GOD—NO! DUCK!—LUCK'S TAKING ALL THE BLAME! [Verse 2 — darker, more confident beat] The music gets quiet, the heartbeat gets loud, I stop being useless, I stop being a cloud. One perfect prediction, one perfectly timed hit, And suddenly the survivors are losing their wits! I'm behind every corner, I'm closing the gate, They're wondering how they got eliminated so late. The last one is running, they've nowhere to go, And I'm moving like somebody who actually knows! [Pre-Chorus — building tension] No panic, no misses, no fumbling hands, I've become the nightmare of these digital lands. My friends are all screaming, “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!” I don't know, buddy. I HAVEN'T GOT A CLUE! [Chorus — explosive] I'M NO KILLER AT ALL! I trip on my feet, I run into walls! But SOMETIMES I LOCK IN, SOMETIMES I SNAP, And suddenly the whole darn lobby's taking a nap! I'M NO KILLER AT ALL! I miss every swing, I'm incredibly small! Then I wipe the whole squad and I clutch the endgame— AND I SWEAR ON MY EARS, LUCK'S TAKING ALL THE BLAME! [Verse 3 — battle royale breakdown] Drop into the map, got a terrible gun, My teammates are sweating, I'm already done. My aim's like a potato, my movement's a mess, I'm looting a bathroom while the others suppress. Now it's final circle, there's four squads alive, My teammates are down and I'm barely at five. Something clicks in, and the world slows down, I wipe three squads and become the talk of the town! [Bridge — dramatic orchestral pause] Was it skill? Was it luck? Was I blessed by some ancient duck? Did my brain finally boot up right? Was I possessed for a single fight? No answers. No wisdom. No grand revelation. Just one inexplicable gaming transformation! [Spoken — post-match voice chat] “BRO! THAT WAS AMAZING! HOW DID YOU DO THAT?!” …Honestly? I think I got lucky. [Final Chorus — maximum chaos] I'M NO KILLER AT ALL! I trip on my feet, I run into walls! But SOMETIMES I LOCK IN, SOMETIMES I SNAP, AND THE WHOLE ENEMY TEAM GETS SENT OFF THE MAP! I'M NO KILLER AT ALL! I HAVE NO CONSISTENCY, I'M A GAMING CRUMB! ONE GAME I'M A LEGEND, NEXT GAME I'M A SHAME, AND LUCK AND SKILL HAVE BOTH FORGOTTEN MY NAME! [Outro — quiet, defeated] Well… That was fun. Queue another? …Oh, I'm playing killer again? Aw, biscuits. WE'RE DOOMED.
