[Intro – Curtains Breathing]
[House lights fade… velvet drips slow…
Orchestra tuning like knives in a row.
Welcome to the show.]
[Verse 1 Fast rap]
Cinnamon Spotlight glow, center-stage tension,
Actors locked in place like a death-row sentence.
Playbill ink bleeding—read between the lines,
Every cue a warning, every warning a sign.
Director with a whisper like a demon in his throat,
“Kill the scene, kill the dream,” that’s the note he wrote.
Audience leans in thinking it’s all plot,
But the props ain’t props and the bodies are not.
Curtains sway hiding something rotten,
Ghosts pacing rafters, cast long forgotten.
Stagehands whisper low ‘cause the catwalks know,
This theater been a coffin since forever ago.
Spotlight hits the lead in a cinnamon haze,
Smile like candy but her scream sets blaze.
Heartbeat syncing with the drumline crawl—
This ain’t art… this is death’s curtain call.
[Hook]
Cinnamon Spotlight—blood on the stage floor,
Once they start the number, they don’t sing anymore.
Cinnamon Spotlight—nobody leaves tonight,
Every verse is a murder and the mic is the knife.
Cinnamon Spotlight—echoes in the mezzanine,
Actors turn killers when the scene gets obscene.
Cinnamon Spotlight—no exit, no end,
This show kills once… then it kills again.
[Verse 2 fast rap]
Fog machine hissing like a serpent in the wings,
Audience cheering for the horror it brings.
Thinking it’s effects, clever design,
Till the crimson pours heavy and the screams align.
Script keeps shifting like it’s writing itself,
Pages fall burning from a phantom shelf.
Orchestra plays blind, strings shaking with fear,
Conductor keeps tempo though his ending is near.
Chandelier sways over row three’s cries,
Actors drag a body while the melody dies.
Blood on the spotlight staining the rhyme,
Murder in cadence staying perfectly on time.
Marquee outside flickers sick in the night,
Title rearranges till it spells NO LIFE.
Broadway heartbeat pounding war-drum tight,
Cinnamon scent masking death from sight.
[Hook]
Cinnamon Spotlight—blood on the stage floor,
Once they start the number, they don’t sing anymore.
Cinnamon Spotlight—nobody leaves tonight,
Every verse is a murder and the mic is the knife.
Cinnamon Spotlight—echoes in the mezzanine,
Actors turn killers when the scene gets obscene.
Cinnamon Spotlight—no exit, no end,
This show kills once… then it kills again.
[Verse 3 fast rap]
Act III erupts—truth starts sprintin’,
Lead walks forward in a glow cinnamon.
Eyes shine wild like a haunted delight,
She bows to the crowd then begins the bite.
Screams join rhythm row after row,
Tap-dance slaughter in a crimson flow.
Critics scribble shaking—five-star fright,
“Cinnamon Spotlight”—Broadway’s darkest night.
Spotlight flickers like it’s begging for aid,
Then bursts apart like a dying grenade.
Smoke curls rising like a curtain of sin,
Finale begins where the murders begin.
Last note rings… last throat tight…
Cast takes a bow in the cinnamon light.
[Standing ovation—
even the corpses rise.]
KylePatrick
