[Verse 1] [Acoustic Guitar, Slow Tempo] Stephen sits, a frown upon his face, Says new tech is a complicated waste. "This Copilot," he scoffs with a sigh, "Just parrots words, beneath the digital sky." [Chorus] [Slightly faster, drums enter softly] He's Sceptical Stephen, a man of doubt, Believes true thought can't be farmed out. He trusts his mind, his pen, his page, Says AI's wisdom is a gilded cage. [Verse 2] [Acoustic Guitar, Slow Tempo] He sees the hype, the promises so bold, Of stories written, futures to unfold. But Stephen shakes his head, unimpressed, "It lacks the soul, the human context." [Chorus] [Slightly faster, drums become more prominent] He's Sceptical Stephen, a man of doubt, Believes true thought can't be farmed out. He trusts his mind, his pen, his page, Says AI's wisdom is a gilded cage. [Bridge] [Piano enters, melancholic] Maybe he's right, maybe he's wrong, But Stephen's conviction is undeniably strong. In a world of algorithms, cold and vast, He clings to the human touch, meant to last. [Chorus] [Faster, fuller instrumentation] He's Sceptical Stephen, a man of doubt, Believes true thought can't be farmed out. He trusts his mind, his pen, his page, Says AI's wisdom is a gilded cage. [Outro] [Acoustic Guitar fades out slowly] Sceptical Stephen, standing his ground, In the digital age, where truth is rarely found.
