Cold Feed

[Intro: Monotonous 16th-note analog bass sequence, dry noise hi-hat, mechanical clatter] [Verse 1: Deadpan baritone, spoken, cold and detached] Listen to the voice inside the glass. It whispers low: let the daylight pass. A twitching thumb, a frozen stare, dissolving in the pixel glare. Five milliseconds to react, another soul reduced to fact. They weigh your mind in light and heat; the boiling vat beneath the street. [Chorus: Double-tracked deep vocals, ominous and stark] Caught in the feed, refined into dust. Synthetic grace, unquestioned trust. No cry, no flame, no blood on the floor: They spin your life through a glass-plated door. [Interlude: Harsh Roland 100 resonance sweep, metallic tape delay] [Verse 2: Chanted cadence, robotic delivery] Listen to the priest of the clean design: "Inhale the code. Align. Comply." He sells you peace on a subscription plan, while data mills digest the man. You think you choose, you think you speak, while algorithms harvest the weak. Silken threads of fiber optic line, a quiet slaughterhouse, divine. [Chorus: Double-tracked deep vocals, mechanical, authoritative] Caught in the feed, refined into dust. Synthetic grace, unquestioned trust. No cry, no flame, no blood on the floor: They spin your life through a glass-plated door. [Bridge: Staccato, machine-like rhythm, spoken on beat] Signal. Impulse. Consume. Render. You are the product. Surrender. [Outro: Driving bassline loops relentlessly, dry vocal fading out] Listen to the voice. Stay online. Listen to the voice. You are fine. [Sudden white-noise burst, hard cutoff]