“Ash and Cog” (March Hare & Duchess confront TickTock in his hall – The M

[instrument: cracked grandfather clock, warped bassline like slow ticking gears] [tempo: 60bpm, aggressive swing stuttered on downbeat] [key: D minor, sliding into E Phrygian feel] [fx: reverse bell chimes, slow gear ratchets, hiss of steam pressure] [ambience: faint echo of nursery rhyme played on warped vinyl] --- [Duchess // cracked lullaby // alto range] “Ashes march where roses burned, Time forgot the page we turned. Bones to build, and blood to blend— Tick not forward, this is the end.” “One little foot, two steps away, Three blind queens led hearts astray. Four clocks chimed and none would save— Now five small toes step on your grave…” --- [March Hare // furious flow // alto range] You see the limp—don’t mistake it for loss, It’s a banner I drag through your holiest moss. You tick and you talk, but I’m done with your toll— Time bends for gods, but I break what you stole. No more riddles, no tea, no mask, I’m not here to sip or ask. I’m the march, I’m the blade, I’m the motherflesh scream— You wanna keep time? I’ll reset the machine. --- [March Hare // surgical heat] Tick tock, stitch pop—my body’s a crime, You watched a Queen rot and called it time. You knew she cracked, you saw her stain— While Wonderland screamed, you just clicked again. I don’t need gears, I got spine and spite, Fuel in my womb and a match to light. Build me a leg or I’ll take your stride— My girl don’t crawl, she was born to ride. --- [March Hare // snapping flow, double-time] Bloodline math: one limb less, one war more— You tally seconds, I tally score. He’s gone? Then so be it. Love’s just lore. But breath still burns, and I’m keeping four— Knuckles cracked like the world’s old shell, I hammer in rhyme like I learned in hell. Don’t rap like queens in their gowns and gloss— I spit like wrath on a mother’s cross. --- [FX: heavy stomp, chains snapping, silence drop] [Outro - Duchess // whispering poison] “This ain’t no tale for gentle folk— It’s teeth in bone and clocks that choke. So hush now, time, and bite your tongue— The March begins. The end’s begun.” [instrument: warped harpsichord, broken pocketwatch bells, glitch swing loop] [tempo: 72bpm, overlay waltz pulse with triplet skips] [key: E minor with bent accidentals] [fx: layered tick-tock rhythms, slow windup, ambient whisper of reversed tea kettle] --- [Duchess // sing-song, eerie rhyme] Hickory thick and tickory dock, Time plays tricks, but Mama won’t stop. The Hare comes hurt and heavy with flame, And leaves no smile—just burning name. Sip the tea, dear, careful sip— Lest the spoon bends at your lip. Time may swirl in sugar rings, But we came to break clockwork kings. --- [March Hare // explosive start, machine-gun clarity] Yeah, I know your trap—same brew, same seat, Same looped laugh, sugar fake, dead sweet. You think you’ll sip me into pause? I’ve danced through war on shattered paws. Cups don’t calm me. Chains don’t hold. You’re serving loops? I serve bold. Sipped your spell like Hatter’s dare, Then vanished flame where there was a Hare. --- [FX: tea pour stops — silence — then whoosh of ignition behind] [FX: wind-up reverse bell tone, like time rewinding too fast] --- [March Hare // behind him now, cold as knives] You blinked. I burned. Now guess who learned? Mad don't crawl, she spirals and turns. I left your loop like a trick of light, Sipped the storm and turned it right. Tea party time? That’s cute, old gear— But I’m the scream you’ll never steer. --- [Duchess // whispery trill over crumbling lullaby melody] The queen will come with silver thread, But this one walks where angels bled. She bears no crown, but roots and rot— And births a child your time forgot. --- [March Hare // low and vicious, almost tender] So build my leg, or lose your stride. My march don’t end ‘til blood’s defied. I’m no ghost, no girl, no game— I’m mother war, and I name your flame. --- [FX: time crack — glass break layered over slow clock chime] [END] [March Hare // rapid-fire fury // feral speedcore burst] You tick I tock—then I crack your face, Rip gears out your chest like a time-rape case. No grace, no plea, no last rewind, I’ll carve your hands from the mouth of time. Thread your spine through a spindle wheel, Grind your bell 'til your soul can't heal. Split your loop with a cursed refrain— "I make clocks scream and wear their chains." Chrono bitch, I was born in war, Your gears click soft, but my limbs roar. You guide time? Cool—then feel this breach, As I pry out truth your cogs won’t teach. Tear your teeth from your tick-tick grin, Make your shadow choke on what might’ve been. You loop tea time? I loop your screams, Until the Queen weeps through shattered dreams. So build me my limb or I'll break your spine, Wear your springs as trophies in line. Last chance, Tick—no cute reset, I’m the mother of war and I ain’t done yet. [FX: final clock crash layered over scream — silence — one slow tick… stops.] [END]