Gasoline Lullaby

[Intro]
(Slow, distorted synth bass pulse. The sound of high heels clicking on concrete, echoing. A single match strikes.)
[Verse 1]
The floorboards didn't creak when I came home
I’ve been a ghost in these halls since you left me alone
You kept the jewelry, I kept the spare key
Funny how silence sounds like a symphony
I’m standing by the bed where you used to lie
Watching the moonlight catch the corner of your eye
You’re dreaming of her, I’m dreaming of red
Better be careful how you tuck in your head.
[Pre-Chorus]
(Music thins out, leaving only a heartbeat kick drum)
Shhh... don't wake up yet
The best part’s the part that you’ll never forget
I’m pouring the shadows into a glass
Waiting for all of your "sorrys" to pass.
[Chorus]
(Heavy, distorted bass drops. Vocals become layered and haunting)
I’m the debt you forgot to pay
The price of the heart that you threw away
I’m the smoke rising up in the dead of the night
The last thing you see ‘fore you run out of light
Honey, revenge is a dish best served cold
But I like it burning... or so I’ve been told.
[Verse 2]
(Bass continues, adding a scratchy electric guitar riff)
I found the letters you hid in the wall
I watched your empire start to look small
You thought I was fragile, a porcelain doll
But dolls have no pulse when they’re watching you fall
I didn’t bring weapons, I didn’t bring hate
I just brought the truth and a seat at the gate.
[Bridge]
(Music cuts to a toy piano melody—creepy and high-pitched)
One for the lies.
Two for the tears.
Three for the ghost of my twenty-some years.
(Vocals build into a distorted scream-whisper)
Four for the fire.
Five for the floor.
Six for the bolt that I slid on the door!
[Chorus]
I’m the debt you forgot to pay
The price of the heart that you threw away
I’m the smoke rising up in the dead of the night
The last thing you see ‘fore you run out of light
Honey, revenge is a dish best served cold
But I like it burning... or so I’ve been told.
[Outro]
(The music fades into a low hum. The sound of a siren in the far distance.)
Sleep tight, darling.
The room’s getting warm, isn't it?
(A final, soft click of a lighter. Silence.)

Dark Cinematic Pop / Trip-Hop,Slow, pulsing, and heavy (75 BPM)Cold, calculated, and eerie, Keep the verses, monochromat