A polite little nightmare - Jester

"​(Style: Slow, heavy horror-cabaret; think music-box chimes suddenly getting flattened by an eight-string guitar and a swaggering trombone)
​(Intro: A delicate, broken music box plinks out a nursery rhyme. Suddenly, a filthy sub-bass hit rattles the speakers, followed by a theatrical clearing of the throat.)
​(Verse 1 – Smoky, theatrical, mock-polite)
Pardon the clutter, we’re peeling the seams,
The house had a diet of plaster and dreams.
The flowers on the parlor wall aren't really flat,
They’ve been chewing the whiskers right off of the cat.
Please take a seat on the velvet settee,
Ignore how it twitches—it thinks you are tea!
The chandelier’s dangling by one rusted wire,
Leading the parlor in a silent church choir.
​(Pre-Chorus – Snare drum clicks rhythmically, low brass slithers up the scale)
One, two—mind the crack,
Three, four—step right back.
Who painted the doorway where the hallway should be?
Don’t open the handle unless you want to see!
​(Chorus – Crushing half-time groove, heavy guitar stabs locked with swing brass)
Oh, it’s a very polite little nightmare tonight!
Keep your gloves clean and your knuckles pulled tight!
The curtains are breathing, the silverware hums,
The butler is nothing but knuckles and thumbs!
Dance with the skeleton, don't step on his toes,
He’s sensitive about the state of his clothes!
(Scream)
Keep smiling, keep swinging, make sure you don't fall—
There are very sharp ears in the wallpaper wall!
​(Verse 2 – Faster, vaudeville shuffle, syncopated and jerky)
The gramophone's spinning with nobody near,
Playing a waltz meant for three-legged deer.
The portraits are swapping their frames on the sly:
The grandmother’s grinning, the baby has an eye
That tracks every step from the rug to the stove,
Where a pot full of rusty old padlocks just rove!
​(Bridge – Spoken word over a slow, dirty upright bass riff and a looping phonograph hiss)
You asked for a ballad.
We gave you the teeth.
You wanted the parlor.
We showed you beneath.
Now the hostess is laughing,
Her jaw unhinged wide:
"Oh darling, the fun isn't out there..."
(Screamed)
IT'S INSIDE!
​(Outro – A wild, manic brass fanfare that abruptly cuts on a sharp snare hit. Distant sound of a tea saucer rattling, then a quiet, cheerful voice:)
"More sugar, dear?""