[Outlaw country + doom folk + gothic blues, 92 BPM, dark narrative, low male baritone/bass-baritone, slight growl, intimate spoken-sung, raw minimal production, fingerstyle acoustic guitar in open D minor, alternating bass, droning lows, slow dragging rhythm, dry minimal drums, no cinematic effects, no choir, underground country noir] [Intro instrumental, fingerstyle guitar, open D minor feel, slow alternating bass, dark drone] [Verse 1, low spoken-sung vocal] Tryin’ to read her heart about me Is like huntin’ a black cat in a dark room late at night. Feels like there ain’t no cat in there at all, Still I walk that darkness careful, stepin’ light. ’Cause if I ever stomp her tail, Lord, there’ll be hell to pay — She’ll claw my legs to ribbons, get offended, run away. [Chorus, bass enters, heavier groove] That proud, hard-livin’, cold-blooded varmint Done got used to livin’ off my dime. Yeah, that high-and-mighty, hard-to-hold stray Done made herself a real good life off wastin’ mine. [Instrumental break, fingerstyle, descending bass, tension] [Verse 2, irritated tone] Every damn day you feed her, pet her, Scratch her ears and rub that spoiled brat’s gut. My darlin’s like a finicky housecat That despises the poor fool fillin’ up her cup. And hell, what kind of master am I anyway? This house sure as hell ain’t mine no more, hey. [Chorus, heavier] That proud, hard-livin’, cold-blooded varmint Done got used to livin’ off my dime. Yeah, that high-and-mighty, hard-to-hold stray Done made herself a real good life off wastin’ mine. [Instrumental break, darker drone, muted rhythm] [Verse 3, lowest register, internal] She clogs up my soul the same way her fur clogs up the drains, If she’s rubbin’ up and purrin’ — there’s always somethin’ hidin’ there. She’s graceful, sweet on the surface, but sinful right through her veins, My black cat’s got a wicked beauty — pure and unfair. I love her, don’t twist it up — I do, It’s just… sometimes she gets under my skin and… [Final Chorus, heavy but restrained] That proud, hard-livin’, cold-blooded varmint Still sleepin’ like she owns my dime. Yeah, that high-and-mighty, hard-to-hold stray Done turned my whole damn world into her time. Sometimes I wanna lock her up in a box, call it Schrodinger’s joke, Then forget if she’s breathin’ or if she’s not. [Outro instrumental, slow decay, fingerstyle, drone fade, unresolved ending]
