[Verse 1] Komyshuvakha, a school turned to shelter, weekly aid point, now rubble and helter-skelter. Ukraine says Russian bombs dropped from the sky, twenty-six counted dead — here's the climb: eighteen first spoken, then twenty-four confirmed, now twenty-six counted, the number still churned. Four were police, two rescuers lost too, twenty to twenty-seven missing, nothing's quite through. Russia stays silent, no word, no reply, no independent eyes to verify why. [Chorus] Numbers keep rising, village to grave, talks in Abu Dhabi, the only thing they gave. Ten and eleven, November's the date, Putin's one move so far — just agreeing to talk. [Verse 2] Here's the lacuna — the gap in the tale, a word for the hole that the headline left pale: Kherson's local truce, since the twenty-seventh, in play, expired that same morning the bombs came that day. Abu Dhabi's not new, it's a well-worn track, January, February, both came right back with no ceasefire signed, just handshakes and air, so call it "new talks" — but read the fine print with care. [Chorus] Numbers keep rising, village to grave, talks in Abu Dhabi, the only thing they gave. Ten and eleven, November's the date, Putin's one move so far — just agreeing to talk. [Verse 3] Brussels this week, NATO and the EU, working-level meetings before the next cue. Zelenskyy's warning: a massive attack on energy and logistics, timed to strike back right when American midterms hit the news — Axios says both sides still refuse to lose ground, territory's the wall, Putin won't bend the crown. Meanwhile the hackers crept into alert apps, Kyiv hit back digital, trading cyber slaps. [Verse 4] Komyshuvakha's name wasn't known worldwide, till the roof caved in and the aid line died. Volunteers queued for bread and for care, now the dust remembers who used to stand there. Satellite feeds can't count every soul, a death toll's a draft till the record is whole. Families wait by the rubble and dust, while diplomats shuffle through promises and trust. The cameras leave but the wreckage stays, a village reduced to the count of its days. [Bridge] Eighteen to twenty-four, twenty-four to twenty-six, grief don't round down, it just adds to the mix. A truce with an end date was never a cure, and talk without terms is a door, not a floor. [Outro] Watch Abu Dhabi, watch the toll, watch the sky, November third logged — we'll see what's left to verify. [Chorus] Numbers keep rising, village to grave, talks in Abu Dhabi, the only thing they gave. Ten and eleven, November's the date, Putin's one move so far — just agreeing to talk.
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