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ᴍᴀʀᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴇɴɢᴜɪɴꜱ (O̷U̷T̷B̷R̷E̷A̷K̷ ̷:̷ ̷D̷a̷y̷ ̷1̷)

Aggressive turntablism fast-rap delivery with razor articulation, precise consonant punches, and rapid internal rhyme flow. Vocal tone confident, seductive, and dangerous with a smoky stoner edge. Maintain breath-efficient pacing, micro-pauses for stutter emphasis, and tight rhythmic lock to a hard, modern hip-hop beat. Drum kit sharp and dry with crisp hi-hats, snapping snares, and a deep, controlled sub bass that hits without distortion. Add subtle cinematic tension textures, low-frequency pulses, and brief industrial accents. Layer minimal reverb for clarity. Keep the mix wide and clean. Vocal phrasing elastic, switching between double-time bursts and steady mid-tempo dominance. Maintain a dark, swagger-heavy attitude with hints of sensual menace. Avoid melodic singing; keep performance percussive and relentless.

ᴘʀᴇᴛᴛʏ J͓̽i͓̽N͓̽X͓̽E͓̽D͓̽·3:06

Lyrics

MARCH OF THE UNDEAD PENGUINS

[Intro – whispered PSA / crowd murmur]
Attention visitors…
Please do not tap the glass.
Please do not feed the birds.
Please do not scream.

Too late.



[Verse 1]
Came in a crate with a clipboard lie,
New little tuxedo, dead in the eye.
Saint Louis smiles, rubber stamp “OK,”
Dropped him in the tank, let him mingle and play.
He pecked once, twice, black blood dripped,
Snow went red where the feathers ripped.
Bellies low, beaks split wide,
Something old woke up inside.



[Pre-Chorus]
Cold feet, no pulse, still they move,
Frozen hunger with nothing to lose.
Slide, don’t waddle, drag that gut,
They don’t eat fish anymore they eat… us.



[Chorus – March / Chant]
WADDLE. BITE. FEED THE HORDE.
Black-eyed birds with a dead man’s chord.
FLIP. SLIDE. BREAK THE DOOR.
From zoo to zoo till there’s nothing more.
CLACK. CLACK. HEAR THEM COME.
Drums in the dark go thud-thud-thump.
MARCH. MARCH. NO REFUND SIGNS.
Soon they’ll be in a town near you tonight.



[Verse 2]
Glass cracks, gift shop barricade,
Plushies screaming, minimum wage afraid.
Kids drop cones, moms drop phones,
Security slips on half-eaten bones.
They learn fast, they learn the map,
Truck stops next, then petting traps.
Every zoo adds teeth to the line,
Every beak snaps right on time.



[Pre-Chorus 2]
No headshot rule, they don’t stay down,
Smile stitched in a frozen frown.
They don’t feel cold, they don’t feel pain,
They just feel hunger again and again.



[Chorus – louder / crowd response]
WADDLE. BITE. FEED THE HORDE.
Feathers stuck with human gore.
FLIP. SLIDE. FLOOR IS RED.
Cute is dead, yeah cute is dead.
CLACK. CLACK. COUNT THE DEAD.
Tuxedos marching over heads.
MARCH. MARCH. NO SAFE ZONE.
You hear that honk? You’re not alone.



[Bridge – Dark Comedy Breakdown]
Animal control said “try the hose,”
Penguins laughed through broken throats.
Someone yelled “Just play dead!”
They ate him while he followed directions.
News at nine: “This seems contained,”
Cut to footage of the interstate stained.
Experts shrug, anchors cry,
Penguins slide past the chyron line.



[Final Chorus – Full Anthem]
WADDLE. BITE. FEED THE HORDE.
End-of-days in black and white.
FLIP. SLIDE. LOCK YOUR DOORS.
Doesn’t matter, they bite through floors.
CLACK. CLACK. FEEL THE DRUM.
Cold feet marching kingdom come.
MARCH. MARCH. LAST WARNING SIGNS.
Started in a zoo…
Now they’re right outside.



[Outro – whispered, cheerful]
Thank you for visiting.
Please exit calmly.
Do not run.
They love that.
See told ya hahahahaha

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