In the shadows of the lobby, where the radio static hums
He watches as the princess smiles before the morning comes
A deer with silver secrets and a grin that’s carved in bone
He thought he’d found a rhythm he could finally call his own
He adores her golden spirit, how she dares to dream of light
A flicker in the darkness of an everlasting night
But the air grows thick with silence, and the dials begin to spin
As the "Radio Demon" feels a coldness deep within
For there stands the soldier, with her spear and guarded heart
The one who holds the pieces Alastor cannot pull apart
He sees them in the parlor, hands entwined and voices low
A gentle warmth he cannot mimic, a flame he'll never know
The static crackles sharper as her laughter fills the air
Directed at another while he stands a phantom there
His shadow claws the floorboards, a dark and jagged thing
Torn by the quiet symphony that only two can sing
He tilts his head and chuckles, for the show must still go on
But the melody is bitter now that Charlie’s heart is gone
A master of the broadcast, yet he’s losing every beat
Watching paradise flourish while he tastes his own defeat
Jan 18
Jan 18, 2026 at 10:55 AM UTC
In the shadows of the lobby, where the radio static hums
He watches as the princess smiles before the morning comes
A deer with silver secrets and a grin that’s carved in bone
He thought he’d found a rhythm he could finally call his own
He adores her golden spirit, how she dares to dream of light
A flicker in the darkness of an everlasting night
But the air grows thick with silence, and the dials begin to spin
As the "Radio Demon" feels a coldness deep within
For there stands the soldier, with her spear and guarded heart
The one who holds the pieces Alastor cannot pull apart
He sees them in the parlor, hands entwined and voices low
A gentle warmth he cannot mimic, a flame he'll never know
The static crackles sharper as her laughter fills the air
Directed at another while he stands a phantom there
His shadow claws the floorboards, a dark and jagged thing
Torn by the quiet symphony that only two can sing
He tilts his head and chuckles, for the show must still go on
But the melody is bitter now that Charlie’s heart is gone
A master of the broadcast, yet he’s losing every beat
Watching paradise flourish while he tastes his own defeat
If Alastor liked Charlie and the pain he feels when he sees her with Vaggie
