[Intro: Cinematic Trip-Hop haze, minor key upright bass, brushed drums with vinyl crackle, distant harpsichord arpeggios filtered through tape delay, low baritone enters intimate and dry] [Soft glass clink] [Sub-bass heartbeat under muted trumpet swells] [Verse 1: Goth Funk groove with syncopated bassline, rimshot snare, muted funk guitar scratches, smoky lounge piano stabs, velvety vampire vocal with playful restraint] You walked in late Lipstick smudged like fate Asked "Is this place… cursed?" (you hoped so) Candle wax drip On your thrift-store slip You laughed when the waiter Called it "undead chic" [Chorus: Baroque Disco drive, four-on-the-floor kick, gothic string stabs in rising arpeggios, shimmering hi-hats, pipe organ punches, layered falsetto backing vocals over cinematic pads] But there's blood on the dessert menu And your vegan heart said "absolutely not" You said "I like my monsters gentle" While I'm chewing on an ice cube trying not to talk Wrong moon Wrong night Wrong venue Guess I shouldn't have booked the cryptic spot First date First stake through my ego Guess romance really is a kind of plot [Verse 2: Cinematic Trip-Hop beat deepens, sub-bass slides, muted trumpet answers vocal lines, clavinet accents, vocal phrasing slightly tighter and defensive] You said "I binge true crime" I said "Same—just... live" Tried to joke It fell Right through the floor You asked my age I said "It's complicated" When I did the math You were halfway to the door [Chorus: Full Goth Funk and Disco fusion, strings wider and more dramatic, bass more aggressive, backing vocals call-and-response, subtle choir textures behind lead] There's blood on the dessert menu You picked sorbet I picked something rare You said "Consent is kind of crucial" I said "I only bite if someone wants the scare" Wrong moon Wrong night Wrong venue You kept glancing at the exit sign's red glare First date First stake through my ego Guess forever doesn't mean we'll make a pair [Bridge: Band drops to sparse smoky lounge groove, upright bass tremolo, brushed snare ghost notes, cathedral organ drone low in mix, whispered harmonies layered with reverse reverb] You talked about sunrise yoga I pictured turning into ash You said you hate clingy exes I've got centuries of baggage in the back You wanted slow Soft Weekends I own the graveyard shift for life You wanted kids Car Garden I just mastered not turning dates to brides (oh) [Final Chorus: Cinematic crescendo, trip-hop drums double in intensity, disco strings sweeping stereo field, organ and synth choir collide, lead vocal belts with dramatic vibrato then softens] Still there's blood on the dessert menu And you're stirring your drink like it's a spell You say "I think we want different stories" I raise my glass and laugh "Yeah I can tell" Wrong moon Wrong night Wrong venue But I’m glad I got to meet you in this hell First date Last dance No sequel Some tragedies are tiny And that's just as well [Outro: Vampire Lounge Jazz cool-down, muted trumpet solo, disco kick fades, harpsichord plucks dissolve into tape hiss, final whispered close-mic line] (Wrong moon…) (Next life, maybe.) [Glass sets down, heartbeat bass fades to silence]
