Part V: Ash in the Pipe, Fire in the Pines (A Film Noir Ballad in Shadows and Snow)

dark mysterious chaotic contemporary jazz, saxophone, piano, trumpet, dramatic dark noir jazz prog rock, jazz noir, experimental cinematic noir, raspy female vocals, legendary storytelling

https://suno.com/@cloacina
https://suno.com/@sonicsketch

Part 1: 
https://suno.com/song/684c4806-1bd1-46ea-83a0-3de347215e0e

Part 2:
 https://suno.com/song/3161cc56-f20c-4337-8a92-6aea4418e348

Part 3:
https://suno.com/song/4f095da8-ec18-496c-a06c-38dc0d734b4e

Part 4: 
https://suno.com/song/beab50e4-d398-4e52-a298-6fde5d6ffc25

More songs on the Crew's playlist: https://suno.com/playlist/2466df3d-56ee-4f27-8f62-2305592d7d3f

Sherlock Hoot and Dr. Slothson: the Case of the Missing Techno Beaver

[Verse 1]
Smoke curled up in Sherlock’s plume,
The cabin small, a watcher’s room.
He stared through frost, eyes like glass,
As evening slipped through mountain pass.

"You know that’s bad for your health,"
Slothson smirked, removing his own flask with stealth.
A chuckle among friends shared beneath the eaves,
Two shadows hid watching lodge and trees.

Seb still sat behind cold steel,
Justice slow to turn its wheel.
But questions hung like breath in air—
Who attacked again, if Seb was there?

[Verse 2]
They waited long past fire’s fade,
'Til footsteps danced through snowy glade.
A figure hunched, in frantic dig,
Searching where the logs grew big.

"Stop right there!"—the flashlights flared,
A face revealed, a soul laid bare.
Honey, the badger, covered in tears,
No malice—just years of fears.

[Chorus]
“He was my friend,” the badger cried,
“We met in the trees where secrets can hide.
I miss the grubs, the midnight talks,
The way he’d chew through maple stalks.
It’s hard to live here where no one eats meat,
When even hunger’s trimmed to creed.”

[Bridge] 
Then from the edge of pine-swept veil,
A ghostly line began to sail.
Hooded forms with torch in hand,
Moving slow across the land.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed to slits,
"Do you see that?"—he whispered that bit.
A cultish march, slow and grave,
Toward a stone—a wooded nave.

[Verse 3]
In a clearing deep and green,
A sight of something never seen.
Torches sunk in iron rings,
Figures bowed to stranger things.

Upon the slab, a shape grotesque—
A fanged green egg, a bord at rest.
Slothson’s breath caught in his throat,
"An egg like that—they wrote about in tomes."

[Chorus 2]
"All hail the bord!" they cried as one,
"The bord shall rise when time is done!
Tag! Liuz! Var-egg rise! The cycle starts—
With egg and fire and willing hearts!"

[Verse 4]
A hush between the oaths and trees,
Just pine and wind and prayers on knees.
Sherlock leaned into the dark,
"A bord cult... and they’ve left a mark."

Was Carl among them once before?
Did he uncover something more?
Was death the price for what he knew?
A friend of truth—or traitor too?

[Outro]
(Torches flicker. Eyes remain hidden. The egg sits, unmoving. But breathing?)
Another thread in tangled weave,
Another night with none to grieve.
The lodge still sleeps, the woods still hum—
But something stirs. The bord will come.

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© Copyright 2025 Cloacina & SonicSketch https://suno.com/@cloacina https://suno.com/@sonicsketch Part 1: https://suno.com/song/684c4806-1bd1-46ea-83a0-3de347215e0e Part 2: https://suno.com/song/3161cc56-f20c-4337-8a92-6aea4418e348 Part 3: https://suno.com/song/4f095da8-ec18-496c-a06c-38dc0d734b4e Part 4: https://suno.com/song/beab50e4-d398-4e52-a298-6fde5d6ffc25 More songs on the Crew's playlist: https://suno.com/playlist/2466df3d-56ee-4f27-8f62-2305592d7d3f Sherlock Hoot and Dr. Slothson: the Case of the Missing Techno Beaver [Verse 1] Smoke curled up in Sherlock’s plume, The cabin small, a watcher’s room. He stared through frost, eyes like glass, As evening slipped through mountain pass. "You know that’s bad for your health," Slothson smirked, removing his own flask with stealth. A chuckle among friends shared beneath the eaves, Two shadows hid watching lodge and trees. Seb still sat behind cold steel, Justice slow to turn its wheel. But questions hung like breath in air— Who attacked again, if Seb was there? [Verse 2] They waited long past fire’s fade, 'Til footsteps danced through snowy glade. A figure hunched, in frantic dig, Searching where the logs grew big. "Stop right there!"—the flashlights flared, A face revealed, a soul laid bare. Honey, the badger, covered in tears, No malice—just years of fears. [Chorus] “He was my friend,” the badger cried, “We met in the trees where secrets can hide. I miss the grubs, the midnight talks, The way he’d chew through maple stalks. It’s hard to live here where no one eats meat, When even hunger’s trimmed to creed.” [Bridge] Then from the edge of pine-swept veil, A ghostly line began to sail. Hooded forms with torch in hand, Moving slow across the land. Sherlock’s eyes narrowed to slits, "Do you see that?"—he whispered that bit. A cultish march, slow and grave, Toward a stone—a wooded nave. [Verse 3] In a clearing deep and green, A sight of something never seen. Torches sunk in iron rings, Figures bowed to stranger things. Upon the slab, a shape grotesque— A fanged green egg, a bord at rest. Slothson’s breath caught in his throat, "An egg like that—they wrote about in tomes." [Chorus 2] "All hail the bord!" they cried as one, "The bord shall rise when time is done! Tag! Liuz! Var-egg rise! The cycle starts— With egg and fire and willing hearts!" [Verse 4] A hush between the oaths and trees, Just pine and wind and prayers on knees. Sherlock leaned into the dark, "A bord cult... and they’ve left a mark." Was Carl among them once before? Did he uncover something more? Was death the price for what he knew? A friend of truth—or traitor too? [Outro] (Torches flicker. Eyes remain hidden. The egg sits, unmoving. But breathing?) Another thread in tangled weave, Another night with none to grieve. The lodge still sleeps, the woods still hum— But something stirs. The bord will come.

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