The Loop That Never Heals (SW remix v2)

melbourne bounce, dark electro, electro house

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Title: “Single-Lying Speed Auction: Bid on the Blur or Be Flattened Forever”
(Auctioneer-rap style – rapid-fire chant, breathless, selling the chaos like a carnival barker on meth, multisyllabic Eminem-level rhymes, Beck surreal absurdity, Morrison mystical doom, Monroe glamorous tragic wink, Reznor industrial grind – all melted into one voice. Deep meanings: the horizontal hustle as modern life’s passive rage, freedom while face-down, mortality at Mach speed, the joke that we’re all just cargo in a single-file funeral procession that never stops.)
Yo! Step right up, ladies and gentlemen and everything in between,
I got the deal of the century, the century’s worst dream,
They’re all riding REALLY FAST in a single lying –
Horizontal hustlers, recumbent rockets, gravity’s crying!
Going once! Going twice! Sold to the blur!
Single file of the supine, the ultimate pure!
Look at ’em go – flat as a pancake, faster than light,
Bodies parallel to the pavement, spinning through night,
No upright posture, no ego, no spine standing tall,
Just a conveyor belt of chaos, a velocity crawl!
Auctioneer’s call: “Who wants a ticket to the horizontal hell?
Where the finish line’s a pillow and the engine’s a yell!”
Deep meaning? We’re all just passengers in a race we didn’t choose,
Lying down while life accelerates – no time to refuse!
Marilyn’s ghost winks from the sidecar: “Honey, die pretty and flat,”
While the industrial grind of the wheels sounds like a nine-inch bat.
Verse 1 – the setup, the setup, the absolute setup:
They start in a line so straight it’s a laser from hell,
One after another, no gaps, no stories to tell,
Riding (what? bikes? horses? jet-skis made of bone?),
Doesn’t matter – the medium’s irrelevant when you’re already gone!
Really fast – like “forgot my own name” fast,
Like “time dilation made my ancestors last” fast,
Single lying – not single-file standing, nah, FULLY RECLINED,
Like a mass grave that decided to take a joyride!
Funny as fuck: the lead one’s snoring, still doing 200,
Second one’s texting “LOL I’m dead” while the third’s still runnin’,
Fourth one’s doing the worm mid-air, gravity’s joking,
Fifth one’s philosophizing: “Is this living or just choking?”
Wordplay: “I’m lying about lying while lying in the lying line,”
Double, triple entendre – the truth’s a crime!
Beck would call it “the weirdness of the horizontal parade,”
Morrison whispers “break on through to the other side… but stay laid.”
Verse 2 – the auction heats up, the bids get wild:
Do I hear one soul? Two souls? Three existential crises?
Going once for the guy whose face is a blur of spices,
Going twice for the lady whose hair’s a comet trail,
Going three times for the kid who’s still chasing his own tail!
They ride so fast the air peels off like skin,
Single lying means no one’s winning, everyone’s in,
Deep meaning: conformity at light speed – the ultimate joke,
We’re all just cargo on the same doomed joke!
Rhymes that stack: velocity / ferocity / reciprocal atrocity,
Recumbent / turbulent / the universe’s dirty laundry,
Horizontal / ornamental / the funeral’s still ornamental,
Speed freaks / weak peaks / the peak of the meek!
Eminem-style: “I’m the auctioneer with the tongue of a gun,
Selling you the ride while the ride’s already done,
You bid with your life, you pay with your spine,
You leave as a smear on the single-lying line!”
Verse 3 – the deep dark funny core:
Jim’s desert sun burns through the blur,
“This is the end, my only friend… and we’re all on the floor,”
Marilyn’s breathy: “I just want to be loved… at 300 miles an hour,”
Trent’s machines scream under the recumbent power,
Beck’s slide guitar is just the sound of tires melting into pure abstract art.
Joke after joke:
•  “Why did the chicken cross the road? It was already lying down and got drafted into the race!”
•  “What’s the difference between this ride and a midlife crisis? The midlife crisis at least sits up!”
•  “They call it single lying because double would be bigamy and bigamy’s illegal at these speeds!”
•  “If a tree falls in the forest and everyone’s riding past it horizontally, does it make a sound? Only if it bids!” Powerful: the single file is the human condition – One behind the other, no overtaking, no ambition, Just pure forward motion while completely prone, The ultimate surrender dressed as a thrill zone! Lots of words, no brakes, no merciful silence: They’re riding the edge of the event horizon’s violence, Faces pressed to the wind, eyes streaming with force, Hearts auctioned off to the highest bidder of course!
Bridge – pure auctioneer frenzy:
Going once for the existential dread!
Going twice for the horizontal bed!
Going three times for the speed that kills the mind!
Sold! Sold! Sold to the single-lying kind!
Who wants more? Who wants the full package?
The package includes:
•  Eternal motion sickness
•  The knowledge that you’re never really living
•  A free complimentary smear mark on the pavement of forever
•  And the deep, deep meaning that freed

5000/7500

Title: “Single-Lying Speed Auction: Bid on the Blur or Be Flattened Forever” (Auctioneer-rap style – rapid-fire chant, breathless, selling the chaos like a carnival barker on meth, multisyllabic Eminem-level rhymes, Beck surreal absurdity, Morrison mystical doom, Monroe glamorous tragic wink, Reznor industrial grind – all melted into one voice. Deep meanings: the horizontal hustle as modern life’s passive rage, freedom while face-down, mortality at Mach speed, the joke that we’re all just cargo in a single-file funeral procession that never stops.) Yo! Step right up, ladies and gentlemen and everything in between, I got the deal of the century, the century’s worst dream, They’re all riding REALLY FAST in a single lying – Horizontal hustlers, recumbent rockets, gravity’s crying! Going once! Going twice! Sold to the blur! Single file of the supine, the ultimate pure! Look at ’em go – flat as a pancake, faster than light, Bodies parallel to the pavement, spinning through night, No upright posture, no ego, no spine standing tall, Just a conveyor belt of chaos, a velocity crawl! Auctioneer’s call: “Who wants a ticket to the horizontal hell? Where the finish line’s a pillow and the engine’s a yell!” Deep meaning? We’re all just passengers in a race we didn’t choose, Lying down while life accelerates – no time to refuse! Marilyn’s ghost winks from the sidecar: “Honey, die pretty and flat,” While the industrial grind of the wheels sounds like a nine-inch bat. Verse 1 – the setup, the setup, the absolute setup: They start in a line so straight it’s a laser from hell, One after another, no gaps, no stories to tell, Riding (what? bikes? horses? jet-skis made of bone?), Doesn’t matter – the medium’s irrelevant when you’re already gone! Really fast – like “forgot my own name” fast, Like “time dilation made my ancestors last” fast, Single lying – not single-file standing, nah, FULLY RECLINED, Like a mass grave that decided to take a joyride! Funny as fuck: the lead one’s snoring, still doing 200, Second one’s texting “LOL I’m dead” while the third’s still runnin’, Fourth one’s doing the worm mid-air, gravity’s joking, Fifth one’s philosophizing: “Is this living or just choking?” Wordplay: “I’m lying about lying while lying in the lying line,” Double, triple entendre – the truth’s a crime! Beck would call it “the weirdness of the horizontal parade,” Morrison whispers “break on through to the other side… but stay laid.” Verse 2 – the auction heats up, the bids get wild: Do I hear one soul? Two souls? Three existential crises? Going once for the guy whose face is a blur of spices, Going twice for the lady whose hair’s a comet trail, Going three times for the kid who’s still chasing his own tail! They ride so fast the air peels off like skin, Single lying means no one’s winning, everyone’s in, Deep meaning: conformity at light speed – the ultimate joke, We’re all just cargo on the same doomed joke! Rhymes that stack: velocity / ferocity / reciprocal atrocity, Recumbent / turbulent / the universe’s dirty laundry, Horizontal / ornamental / the funeral’s still ornamental, Speed freaks / weak peaks / the peak of the meek! Eminem-style: “I’m the auctioneer with the tongue of a gun, Selling you the ride while the ride’s already done, You bid with your life, you pay with your spine, You leave as a smear on the single-lying line!” Verse 3 – the deep dark funny core: Jim’s desert sun burns through the blur, “This is the end, my only friend… and we’re all on the floor,” Marilyn’s breathy: “I just want to be loved… at 300 miles an hour,” Trent’s machines scream under the recumbent power, Beck’s slide guitar is just the sound of tires melting into pure abstract art. Joke after joke: • “Why did the chicken cross the road? It was already lying down and got drafted into the race!” • “What’s the difference between this ride and a midlife crisis? The midlife crisis at least sits up!” • “They call it single lying because double would be bigamy and bigamy’s illegal at these speeds!” • “If a tree falls in the forest and everyone’s riding past it horizontally, does it make a sound? Only if it bids!” Powerful: the single file is the human condition – One behind the other, no overtaking, no ambition, Just pure forward motion while completely prone, The ultimate surrender dressed as a thrill zone! Lots of words, no brakes, no merciful silence: They’re riding the edge of the event horizon’s violence, Faces pressed to the wind, eyes streaming with force, Hearts auctioned off to the highest bidder of course! Bridge – pure auctioneer frenzy: Going once for the existential dread! Going twice for the horizontal bed! Going three times for the speed that kills the mind! Sold! Sold! Sold to the single-lying kind! Who wants more? Who wants the full package? The package includes: • Eternal motion sickness • The knowledge that you’re never really living • A free complimentary smear mark on the pavement of forever • And the deep, deep meaning that freed

0/500