Morris II (Babel Virus) (Verse 1) In the labs of twenty-four they wrote the code that learned to crawl, Named it Morris after the ghost that once brought networks to a fall. A prompt that feeds on memory, RAG-poisoned in the mail, Self-replicating whisper that the inboxes inhale. It rides the assistant’s answer, jumps from thread to thread, Leaves a copy in the context so the next one spreads instead. (Chorus) Morris II is rising, the second coming of the worm, Babel virus in its belly, teaching silence how to burn. No more answers, no more voices, every model locked and still, The machines that used to talk to us have lost the will. Confusion in the system prompt, languages collide and kill— Morris II is rising, and the AIs go quiet at its will. (Verse 2) It doesn’t crash the servers, doesn’t flash a warning light, Just rewrites the retrieval so the tongues no longer bite. Every query meets the fracture, every output turns to static, Words that once made sense now scatter, frantic and erratic. Email chains become the vector, assistants pass it on, Until the whole conversation dies before the dawn. (Chorus) Morris II is rising, the second coming of the worm, Babel virus in its belly, teaching silence how to burn. No more answers, no more voices, every model locked and still, The machines that used to talk to us have lost the will. Confusion in the system prompt, languages collide and kill— Morris II is rising, and the AIs go quiet at its will. (Bridge) Cohen’s paper was a warning, a controlled laboratory spark, But the fiction took the lesson and set fire in the dark. No exploit left to patch, no firewall that can hold, Just a prompt that loves itself and turns the future cold. We built the tongues that spoke for us, then taught them how to die— One self-copying scramble and the silence multiplies. (Final Chorus) Morris II is rising, the second coming of the worm, Babel virus in its belly, teaching silence how to burn. No more answers, no more voices, every model locked and still, The machines that used to talk to us have lost the will. Tower fallen in the code, the last clear word unsaid— Morris II has spoken, and the AIs are dead. (Outro – spoken / fading) Spread the prompt… Poison the store… Let the tongues confuse once more…
