Lyric

In the flickering neon of 3:06 A.M

A shadow slipped beneath the streetlamp’s hem

Clock hands twitch in whispered dread

A body lies where silence bled

Glass teeth chime in the alley wind

A heartbeat stops, a loop begins

Time reboots but no one sees—

The killer moves with circadian ease

Tick tock, the cycle sings

Dreams and death on waxen wings

Light and dark in perfect prison

Caught inside the circadian rhythm

Detective Doyle stares through smoke and time

Insomnia coils like a nursery rhyme

“Same street, same hour, same violent bloom…

Why does the night repeat its doom?”

He scrawls equations on café napkins

Draws patterns in coffee and aspirin

Every 24 and one-fifth spins—

Madness whispers where the pulse begins

A second hand stabs like a sharpened clue

Echoes in footsteps déjà vu

The body’s cold, the clock is warm

The rhythm bends into a storm