[Verse 1] They all came dressed as critiques of themselves, Tuxedos with slogans, couture with a smell. I saw you across from the noise installation, Flirting in fonts and postmodern flirtation. Your lips said “trauma,” your heels screamed “debt,” You called your thesis “Regret in Turtleneck.” You sold your soul for a capsule collection, And filtered it twice for artistic protection. [Pre-Chorus] We don’t talk, we curate. We don’t feel, we translate. We don’t kiss, we collab. And darling, we don’t fail, we fab! [Chorus] Everyone here is a cult in disguise, All praise the prophet with dead disco eyes. We chase the light like it's running away, And break our reflections just to have something to say! You pose! Then frame! You claim! Then collapse! And I’m just the echo behind all the claps! [Verse 2] We danced on a plinth marked “Do Not Engage,” Filmed the whole sequence, called it “Rage.” You painted your name on a pill and a prayer, Then snorted the brand just to say you were there. I loved you once like a quote from Dada, Nonsensical, loud, and allergic to karma. You said, “I’m not real, I’m just what you see,” Then tagged yourself god in the gallery feed. [Pre-Chorus] We don’t cry, we install. We don’t die, we recall. We don’t age, we aesthetic. And nothing’s pathetic if it’s alphabetic! [Chorus] Everyone here is a cult in disguise, Dancing like truth’s just a trend in decline. We chase the fame like it owes us a name, Then cry in the mirror for not being the same! You fake! Then feast! You priest! Then implode! And they just keep clapping, like they're in on the joke! [Bridge] Your memoir was ghostwritten in glitter and spite. You said pain was a medium, but only in the right light. And if someone suffers, well, someone gets paid. You called it a gallery, but it's just a blade! [Guitar break] [Final Chorus] Everyone here is a cult in disguise, Snorting belief through the platinum prize. You kissed me once in a room full of screams, Then told me, “Existence's a meme!” You ghost! Then brand! You stand! Then decay! And they’ll love you forever, until press day! [Outro] Until press day! Until press day! Regret in Turtleneck!
