[Intro – radio static, distant voices overlapping]
—third one this month—
—same kind of room—
—no forced entry—
[Verse 1]
Different houses, same address feel
Same small rooms, same light
Nothing stolen, nothing flipped
Nothing fought the night
Neighbors swear they heard no sound
No crash, no call for help
Just a quiet stretch of missing time
Then nothing else to tell
[Pre-Chorus]
They say it’s random
They say it’s chance
But chance don’t clean its hands
[Chorus]
They’re calling it a series
They’re saying there’s a link
Same kind of silence
Same spotless sink
No signs of struggle
No reason given
Just kitchens left
Like nothing happened
[Verse 2]
Different names on different doors
Same ending every time
Medical words say “excess force”
The room says “fine”
Photos taken, tags are tied
Flash pops, then they leave
Everything looks lived-in still
Like it wants to be believed
[Pre-Chorus 2]
Body tells a violent truth
Room denies it clean
[Chorus]
They’re calling it a series
They’re counting what they see
Not what’s missing
Not what’s clean
Same arrangement
Same reply
No evidence
No alibi
[Bridge – detached, documentary tone]
They circle dates
They mark the map
They talk about escalation
They don’t talk about intent
They don’t talk about preparation
They don’t talk about
Why it feels finished
[Final Chorus – heavier, restrained]
They’re calling it a series
Trying to make it known
But patterns don’t explain
How someone goes alone
Every scene complete
Every question starved
They’ve named the shape
But missed the heart
[Outro – distant voice, almost a report]
No suspects.
No witnesses.
Ongoing investigation.
GrebullG
