"Misery" | Rap Song

Описание: Lyrics:
Snow like a burial shroud over Colorado lanes,
Writer in a Mustang switching gears with his fame,
Paul Sheldon speeding, manuscript riding shotgun,
Champagne in his veins — thought the hard part done.

Curve hit black ice, sky turned vertical,
Metal folded up like a tragic editorial,
Woke up in a stranger’s house stitched into sheets,
Pain singing harmony through shattered feet.

Annie Wilkes smiling, eyes bright as a blade,
Said, “I’m your number one fan,” like a promise half-made,
Former nurse, steady hands, holy book grin,
But her mercy got conditions stitched under the skin.

She read his new novel — no Misery inside,
Her face went pale calm, that dangerous kind,
Romance queen dead on the last page line?
“Oh Paul… you just committed a crime.”

*Hook*
Number one fan, but the love ain’t sweet,
Applause turn cuffs when it’s chained to your feet,
When devotion’s a cage with a porcelain smile,
You ain’t signing autographs — you signing survival.
Number one fan… hear the typewriter slam,
Each key like a trigger in a trembling hand.

She made him burn pages, ashes like snow,
Watched his career curl up in the glow,
Said, “You’ll write her back — resurrection arc,”
Like Christ with a corset crawling out the dark.

Locked doors tighter than plot twist knots,
Phone line dead like the heroine she shot,
Sheriff sniffing around but the storm stayed thick,
Annie played innocence smooth and slick.

Painkillers rationed like narrative beats,
Wheelchair prison with a view of the sleet,
He learned her tempers like a rhythm of doom,
Every sigh forecasted a tightening room.

Then came the hobbling — no metaphor here,
Block on his ankles, truth made clear,
Sledgehammer swing like a judge’s decree,
“Stay with me, Paul… don’t ever leave.”

Bones cracked louder than a bad review,
White-hot flash and the world split in two,
Razor sharp lesson carved into bone:
Fame is a contract you don’t own.

*Hook*
Number one fan, but the love ain’t sweet,
Roses got thorns when they grow in deceit,
When admiration mutates to demand,
You ain’t a man — you a pen in her hand.
Number one fan… feel the cabin close in,
Every compliment laced with original sin.

He studied her scrapbook, headlines in glue,
Babies in wards that mysteriously “flew,”
Trials and poison and courtroom lies,
Angel of mercy with homicide eyes.

He plotted escape in margins and schemes,
Hid pills in his mouth like forbidden themes,
Rolled through the hallway quiet as ink,
One wrong sound and you drown in the brink.

Sheriff came knocking — curiosity brave,
Annie answered sweet with a shovel and grave,
Lawman vanished in snowdrift white,
Truth buried deeper than the blackout night.

Paul wrote faster, blood in the keys,
Resurrected Misery on shattered knees,
Climax scene in a paper storm,
Ink like a weapon taking new form.

Final draft finished, last line dropped,
Annie weeping like her heart just stopped,
He set it ablaze — manuscript flare,
Freedom smells like burning air.

Typewriter lifted — steel confession,
Brought it down hard in self-expression,
Fight in the parlor, rage unplanned,
Author versus audience — man to man.

She rose again, relentless, grand,
Love twisted tighter than wedding bands,
But obsession trips on its own demand,
And monsters bleed when you take a stand.

*Final Hook*
Number one fan, now the curtain falls,
Applause echo hollow in empty halls,
When you build your throne on a stranger’s pain,
The crown cut deep with a serrated chain.
Number one fan… hear the silence ring,
Fame’s just a cage with a prettier sting.

Years later he flinches at waitress smiles,
Sees Annie’s shadow in crowded aisles,
Success tastes thin when the lights go dim —
Some fans don’t read you… they live inside your skin.