Lyrics

[Intro – Caleb, frantic]
Yo Mac, I can’t—she blinked at the napkins.
The forks just hummed. The tea went black.
Christina’s singin’ “Miami” again and Kyle’s—

California Kyle (interrupting):

“WHERE is the CAT?!” 🐾
[Verse 1 – William (narrating chaos)]
Carl on the table, eyes wide, frosted scream,
Tiny lil’ pastry lookin’ straight at the unseen.
I don’t know who made him, I just know he’s cursed—
The icing spell broke and now the vibe’s worse.

Christina twirlin’ with a gap-tooth grin,
Sayin’ “Maui, Miami, I belong to the wind!”
Kyle vibin’ hard, airpods full of lies,
Wavin’ to the jukebox like it’s readin' his mind.

[Hook – Group, tight and cracked up]
🎵 Carl ate the spell, now the floorboards twitch,
Christina laughin’ like a tourist witch.
Kyle’s lost, lookin’ under the mat,
Won’t shut up yellin’, “Where is the cat?!”
Pastry’s cursed, iced with pain—
Carl’s face screamin’ like he knew my name.
So we duck, dodge, pray, and yell—
Tuesday lunch? This is witch-fried hell. 🎵

[Verse 2 – Christina, full weird spiral]

“I put the curse in the cobbler, the grief in the bun,
Carl’s just the messenger, sweet little one.
Maui’s for cleansing, Miami’s for pain—
I did a dance with the governor’s brain.”
She licks the air.
Spins twice.
Snaps at the flies like they’re part of the rite.

[Verse 3 – Caleb, unraveling]
Carl blinked. I swear he blinked.
The jelly leaked like it started to think.
Mac gone. Frank out. I’m alone with this mess.
Kyle’s vaping in a seat made of sadness and stress.

California Kyle (spoken, mystified):

“I think the cat’s in the piano…
or maybe… we’re the cat.”
[Bridge – William, deadpan & done]
Pastry man Carl, my personal sign,
Of how sweet things rot when you cross the line.
When the witch don’t fight—she just sits and waits,
And dessert becomes fate on a Dixie plate.

[Final Hook – Group, louder, off the rails]
🎵 Carl ate the spell, and the jukebox weeps,
Chicken’s cold and my nightmare sleeps.
Kyle won’t quit with the feline chat,
Christina’s hummin’ “Where the Wild Things At?”
This ain’t lunch, it’s a cursed buffet,
Where pastries scream and the forks betray.
Next time I’m packin’ a snack from home—
‘Cause Carl’s dead eyes cut through bone. 🎵

[Outro – Caleb, whispering]
I ain’t gonna lie…
Carl blinked again.
We gotta go.