I shed the light, I leave the stage, I tear away the script,
And crawl into the places where the sunlight has been stripped.
I am the ultimate disaster, dressed in a crimson stain,
Not a sorrowful ghost, but the **blissful face of pure, dark rain.**
They call me mad, they call me wrong—they simply don't have eyes,
To see the glorious, painted truth behind my deep disguise.
The streetlights flicker, then they die, the city holds its breath,
For **the shadow is my curtain, and the silence is my death.**
The mundane hides the monster, but the dark conceals the truth,
And every hidden corner is a playground for my youth.
You better run, you better pray, you better find a wall to climb,
Because finding you is a thrill, a perfect use of time!
I am the **Clown of the Shadows**, the master of the drop,
And when you hear that single laugh—**the curtain's come to stop.**
*Hush now, little morsel... it's over!*
I trace the fear in pheromones, the panic in your heart,
You think you’re clever with your locks? That's just a tragic start.
You hide behind the clothesline, beneath the floor you creep,
But I'm the breath upon your neck, the secret that you keep.
Every frantic heartbeat sends a signal to my ear,
The music of your terror is the only sound I hear.
The world is cold, the rules are fake, existence is a lie,
But I find **exquisite order** in the moment that you try.
You see a killer, a disease, a twisted, broken thing,
But I am just an artist, watching all the shadows sing.
This painted smile? It isn't forced. It's the purest form of grace,
When the fear finally explodes across your desperate face.
You better run, you better pray, you better find a wall to climb,
Because finding you is a thrill, a perfect use of time!
I am the **Clown of the Shadows**, the master of the drop,
And when you hear that single laugh the curtain's come to stop.
*Hush now, little morsel... it's over!
