Graytide

Got it — darkly comic, nihilistic SS13 lyrics about greytide and chaos (21+). Here you go: Title: Gray Tide Blues Verse 1 They slip in on playlists and a wink of idle hands, Badgeless smiles, sticky gloves, stolen schematics in their plans. They trade your tools for papier-mâché and cheap applause, Sell your dignity for credits and a pocket full of cause. Pre-Chorus Clock ticks sideways, conscience left at the door, They call it "fun" while the brig collects more lore. Merriment in malice, etiquette of the broke, Hearts withered to rubber, jokes carved into smoke. Chorus Gray tide rolling in — bring your jokes and petty crimes, Swap your soul for prank grenades and thousand tiny crimes. We laugh while the lights go out, we dance while systems fry, Call it chaos, call it sport — it's how we learn to die. Verse 2 The mime bouquets knives and hands out faceless grins, A chef serenades the toxin pool with stolen tins. Security naps like an altar to apathy's rite, While engineers trade plasma for a brighter, flickering light. Pre-Chorus They mock the bells of order, they auction off the door, Play god with IDs and then beg for medbay's floor. Honor sold for memes, repentance traded cheap, They harvest small betrayals and dream in counterfeit sleep. Chorus Gray tide rolling in — bring your jokes and petty crimes, Swap your soul for prank grenades and thousand tiny crimes. We laugh while the lights go out, we dance while systems fry, Call it chaos, call it sport — it's how we learn to die. Bridge (spoken, sardonic) "Please do not feed the hostiles with real bullets. Please tag your thefts with a name. Please, if you open the shuttle, leave a postcard." — Announcement: morale critically irrelevant. Verse 3 They make altars of fast-food wrappers in maintenance shafts, Compose odes to clowning triumphs on the corpse of the aft. A thousand petty tyrants with a toolbox and a grin, They write their epitaphs in graffiti—call it original sin. Pre-Chorus No revolution, just rot with a laugh-track soundtrack, They file grievances on empty chairs and never look back. Camaraderie in cruelty, affection in the theft, A civilization of prank calls and debts that never left. Final Chorus Gray tide rolling in — bring your jokes and petty crimes, We toast to the small betrayals and to our shrinking times. We laugh when the station groans, we shrug when the hull sighs, Gray tide takes the pieces — we applaud as the lights die. Outro (quiet, bitter) Wash the floors and patch the seams, tally lies in the log, Tomorrow they'll return with another identical fog. We call them crew, we call it life — an endless petty war, Gray tide's gospel: take it, break it, leave it on the floor.