SICK // L♡VE // SICK \\ SaD \\ HAD?

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Sick//Love//Sick
I. Prologue: The Dash/Board Joke
(Musical intro: Distorted, oscillating synth layered over a simple, insistent bass line. Drum machine is cold and mechanical, like a 'tick-tock.')
SICK. SICK. SICK.
(Spoken, close-mic'd, almost a whisper)
I’m not a toy, not a lever to trip.
Just a glitch in the code, a file on your dashboard.
A problem you haven’t quite sat for,
A systemic failure you keep swiping.
And when you do—
(Music spikes, a sharp, dissonant guitar stab.)
Ah, let’s see you flinch-less.
See you scream less.
(Vocal becomes a strained, cynical sneer)
“Pay attention! Little child-sized lie!”
A hare for your name’s sake, for your nation.
For the dead-leg lie you vowed to release.
No remorse. No retreat. Remember?
II. Chorus: The Plush and the Bite
(Music explodes into a heavy, dynamic Art Rock sound. Drums hit hard, bass is driving and distorted. Vocals are high-energy, bordering on a shout, slightly layered with a cold, robotic harmony.)
STUFFED WITH HATE, yeah we plush but we bite! (Bite!)
CLAW MARKS DEEP when we fight in the night. (Night!)
No love in the box, just RAGE ON DISPLAY! (Grrr!)
Forever we rivals, still BEEF EVERY DAY! (Hah!)
Flex! (Bang!)
Cha-ching! (Level up!)
SICK. LOVE. SICK.
The only game left to save.
III. Verse: Nihilistic Tread
(The rhythm drops slightly, becoming more manic and post-punk. Guitar plays a nervous, clean arpeggio that suddenly cuts out for dramatic emphasis.)
Nihilistic tick-tock-tick.
Wanna cost this? It's our future, it's our futures!
We be real sick. Sickly tread, skid
On the brakes, at least in name.
No one trying here to get out or fucking save.
(Vocal drops to a low, conspiratorial murmur)
"We... always... ALWAYS save."
Funny, 'cause you haven’t.
Saving the game ain't saving the dame.
Gotta help her at some point, or else—
"We lose all our saves!"
Not fair. Not here. Not more.
She can’t take it. She’s listening. She can’t shake it no more.
They all cry, and then shove it.
Fake words. Like I can’t hear the difference.
Like... what is a leik?
Some German thing? What's it mean? What's it mean?
IV. Bridge: The Falling Golem
(Tempo slows. The sound is sparse and haunting—just a deep, resonant bass and a delayed, echoing guitar feedback.)
(Vocal is sung low and broken, almost a lament)
Swollen? Going. Had to vote 'em.
Can't shake broken.
Take the golem. I'm the falling.
Would be trodden. Downcast assume. Can't hum. Resume.
A broken zoom. Tongue speaking just to end the abuse.
Abuse. Abuse. Sause.
(The word 'Abuse' is repeated and distorted, like a corrupted loop.)
Got you. Got me. Dismay, lyrically.
Oh, and how I miss her. Would give any... every...
(A sudden, aggressive return to full volume)
Hate on me! Hate me! Hate her!
V. Climax & Outro: Murder Jealousy
(Music returns to the Chorus structure, but more chaotic and desperate. Drums are frantic. The bass line stutters and cuts.)
MURDER! MURDER! MUURRRDER!
(Vocal is pushed to a breaking point, an emotional shriek)
JEALOUSY! Why mock me? Who, me?
(The instrumentation begins to disintegrate—guitars detune slowly, the drum machine skips.)
God, that doesn't sound right...
And then they have to repay.
Oh, alright. Mmkay.
Revenger astute. Kill the hume. Humility.
(Outro music is a final, sustained, painfully high guitar note that slowly fades into silence. The last sound is a single, cold, "ding.")

3703/7500

This is a fascinating challenge. ...life. thoughts art thick: mix some thoughts & thunks & whoops here we go: bad feelings, sad & whoops, & a sick love life. better no life. better? no. life! musical drugs- dopamine shocks heavy, ambient, dark, sex literal sex, uplifting, electronic, shh...! gimme gimme.. the drop!! Sick//Love//Sick I. Prologue: The Dash/Board Joke (Musical intro: Distorted, oscillating synth layered over a simple, insistent bass line. Drum machine is cold and mechanical, like a 'tick-tock.') SICK. SICK. SICK. (Spoken, close-mic'd, almost a whisper) I’m not a toy, not a lever to trip. Just a glitch in the code, a file on your dashboard. A problem you haven’t quite sat for, A systemic failure you keep swiping. And when you do— (Music spikes, a sharp, dissonant guitar stab.) Ah, let’s see you flinch-less. See you scream less. (Vocal becomes a strained, cynical sneer) “Pay attention! Little child-sized lie!” A hare for your name’s sake, for your nation. For the dead-leg lie you vowed to release. No remorse. No retreat. Remember? II. Chorus: The Plush and the Bite (Music explodes into a heavy, dynamic Art Rock sound. Drums hit hard, bass is driving and distorted. Vocals are high-energy, bordering on a shout, slightly layered with a cold, robotic harmony.) STUFFED WITH HATE, yeah we plush but we bite! (Bite!) CLAW MARKS DEEP when we fight in the night. (Night!) No love in the box, just RAGE ON DISPLAY! (Grrr!) Forever we rivals, still BEEF EVERY DAY! (Hah!) Flex! (Bang!) Cha-ching! (Level up!) SICK. LOVE. SICK. The only game left to save. III. Verse: Nihilistic Tread (The rhythm drops slightly, becoming more manic and post-punk. Guitar plays a nervous, clean arpeggio that suddenly cuts out for dramatic emphasis.) Nihilistic tick-tock-tick. Wanna cost this? It's our future, it's our futures! We be real sick. Sickly tread, skid On the brakes, at least in name. No one trying here to get out or fucking save. (Vocal drops to a low, conspiratorial murmur) "We... always... ALWAYS save." Funny, 'cause you haven’t. Saving the game ain't saving the dame. Gotta help her at some point, or else— "We lose all our saves!" Not fair. Not here. Not more. She can’t take it. She’s listening. She can’t shake it no more. They all cry, and then shove it. Fake words. Like I can’t hear the difference. Like... what is a leik? Some German thing? What's it mean? What's it mean? IV. Bridge: The Falling Golem (Tempo slows. The sound is sparse and haunting—just a deep, resonant bass and a delayed, echoing guitar feedback.) (Vocal is sung low and broken, almost a lament) Swollen? Going. Had to vote 'em. Can't shake broken. Take the golem. I'm the falling. Would be trodden. Downcast assume. Can't hum. Resume. A broken zoom. Tongue speaking just to end the abuse. Abuse. Abuse. Sause. (The word 'Abuse' is repeated and distorted, like a corrupted loop.) Got you. Got me. Dismay, lyrically. Oh, and how I miss her. Would give any... every... (A sudden, aggressive return to full volume) Hate on me! Hate me! Hate her! V. Climax & Outro: Murder Jealousy (Music returns to the Chorus structure, but more chaotic and desperate. Drums are frantic. The bass line stutters and cuts.) MURDER! MURDER! MUURRRDER! (Vocal is pushed to a breaking point, an emotional shriek) JEALOUSY! Why mock me? Who, me? (The instrumentation begins to disintegrate—guitars detune slowly, the drum machine skips.) God, that doesn't sound right... And then they have to repay. Oh, alright. Mmkay. Revenger astute. Kill the hume. Humility. (Outro music is a final, sustained, painfully high guitar note that slowly fades into silence. The last sound is a single, cold, "ding.")

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