Dramatic 4 You

**Song Title: "Beak of the Damned"**

*(Dark dramatic horrorcore trap beat: Crushing slow 808s like thunder in a graveyard, distorted minor-key synths bleeding into the mix, twisted Tim Burton carnival organs warped into screams, layered raven caws, bubbling plague-herb drips, and distant funeral bells. Old-school Slim Shady aggression — raspy, venomous delivery that builds from cold sarcasm to unhinged dramatic rage.)*

**Intro** (Low, exhausted whisper over eerie music box)

They see the mask... the robes... the beak.

And they already decided I'm the monster.

Meanwhile these humans...

*disgusted sigh*

I'm sickened.

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**Verse 1**

I’m the plague doctor therapist, perched in this candlelit abyss,

Beak full of rosemary and regret, stitching souls that don’t exist.

You crawl onto my couch, eyes wide at my silhouette in black,

Whisper “He’s evil... look at him, he must be the one who attacks.”

You vile, judgmental sacks of meat and hypocrisy,

Assume I’m death incarnate 'cause my fit’s from the 1600s, see?

I save what’s left of you rotbags with potions brewed in pain,

But you point your shaky fingers like I’m the source of the rain.

Sickened... I’m fucking sickened by the way you gaze,

Mirror in my office shows a doctor, but you see a wraith.

*Patient (nervous):* “Doc... you look like you’d harvest organs at night...”

**Doctor (sarcastic venom rising):**

Harvest organs?! Bitch I harvest patience you don’t deserve,

While you confess your real evil in a calm, collected verve.

I wear the plague mask so you don’t smell your own decay,

Yet humanity looks at me and runs the other way.

Dramatic irony, Tim Burton couldn’t script it sicker,

You fear the doctor while your souls grow quicker and quicker... to liquor and triggers.

**Chorus** (Heavy, theatrical screamed hook — dramatic orchestral trap drop with distorted laughter)

SICKENED! By the way you assume I’m the evil one!

Robe and beak got you shook, but you’re the real loaded gun!

Horror in your hearts, darkness in your daily deeds,

I’m the plague doctor healing, but you project all your needs!

Assume I’m the villain 'cause my shadow’s long and grim,

While you smile and sin — y’all the real plague within!

Dramatic trap graves shaking, humanity’s a joke,

I’m sickened to my beak... one day I might just choke.

**Verse 2**

*Patient (defensive):* “You just look evil, okay? Like you’d spread the curse...”

**Doctor (full Shady aggression, voice cracking with dramatic fury):**

SPREAD THE CURSE?! I’m the one burning sage to clear your stench,

You disgusting, appearance-obsessed, brain-rotted wench!

I walk these crooked streets under Burton moons so pale,

Saving wretches like you while you judge me without fail.

Every session starts the same — fear in your eyes at my frame,

Never mind the human monsters committing acts without shame.

I’m sickened by the projection, the shallow, spineless dread,

You’d burn me at the stake just