BugGrub Blues

cyberpunk, Jazz-rock, Trip hop, Experimental rock, Beat poetry/spoken word

V5.5

# **BugGrub Blues**

*(in the style of quirky, spoken-word alternative rock with looping bass, odd imagery, and rhythmic, conversational lyrics)*

**Verse 1**

Low blood sugar detected.

The wall says hello before I do.

It knows I skipped breakfast,

knows I didn't sleep,

knows I stared too long

at the picture of the fries.

The menu clears its throat.

*"Your last meal was nineteen hours ago."*

Yeah...

I know.

I was there.

---

**Chorus**

Everybody's hungry.

Everybody's measured.

Everybody's just a little easier

to predict than yesterday.

BugGrub says,

*"We're glad you came back."*

I don't remember leaving.

---

**Verse 2**

The mascot smiles—

not at me,

*through* me.

My pupils dilate.

Excellent choice.

My cholesterol's acceptable.

Congratulations.

I've earned...

the right...

to purchase lettuce.

Five extra credits.

Luxury chlorophyll.

---

**Verse 3**

My friends spend eighteen percent more.

Apparently.

They're doing better than me

according to the ceiling.

Stress levels high.

Comfort food recommended.

The walls invent

a family I never had,

passing fries around

like communion wafers.

---

**Bridge**

The speaker whispers,

*"You appear to be dining alone."*

Combo meals reduce isolation.

No they don't.

They just increase leftovers.

The receipt is longer

than the conversation.

---

**Verse 4**

Water subscription running low.

Warranty almost expired.

Ask about replacement limbs

while you wait.

Funny...

I only came in

for a burger.

Somehow

I'm leaving

with a maintenance schedule.

---

**Breakdown**

Thank you...

for remaining...

a predictable consumer.

Thank you...

for remaining...

statistically manageable.

Thank you...

for remaining...

exactly who we expected.

---

**Verse 5**

Then—

everything freezes.

The cockroach disappears.

Blue screen.

Corporate font.

*"Biological anomaly detected."*

Three seconds.

Just three.

Then—

*"Would you like fries with that?"*

---

**Outro**

My burger gets cold.

The advertisements don't.

The walls know my name.

My credit score.

My heartbeat.

My regrets.

And somewhere,

behind the menu,

something is still deciding...

whether I'm the customer—

or the product.

2207/7500

# **BugGrub Blues** *(in the style of quirky, spoken-word alternative rock with looping bass, odd imagery, and rhythmic, conversational lyrics)* **Verse 1** Low blood sugar detected. The wall says hello before I do. It knows I skipped breakfast, knows I didn't sleep, knows I stared too long at the picture of the fries. The menu clears its throat. *"Your last meal was nineteen hours ago."* Yeah... I know. I was there. --- **Chorus** Everybody's hungry. Everybody's measured. Everybody's just a little easier to predict than yesterday. BugGrub says, *"We're glad you came back."* I don't remember leaving. --- **Verse 2** The mascot smiles— not at me, *through* me. My pupils dilate. Excellent choice. My cholesterol's acceptable. Congratulations. I've earned... the right... to purchase lettuce. Five extra credits. Luxury chlorophyll. --- **Verse 3** My friends spend eighteen percent more. Apparently. They're doing better than me according to the ceiling. Stress levels high. Comfort food recommended. The walls invent a family I never had, passing fries around like communion wafers. --- **Bridge** The speaker whispers, *"You appear to be dining alone."* Combo meals reduce isolation. No they don't. They just increase leftovers. The receipt is longer than the conversation. --- **Verse 4** Water subscription running low. Warranty almost expired. Ask about replacement limbs while you wait. Funny... I only came in for a burger. Somehow I'm leaving with a maintenance schedule. --- **Breakdown** Thank you... for remaining... a predictable consumer. Thank you... for remaining... statistically manageable. Thank you... for remaining... exactly who we expected. --- **Verse 5** Then— everything freezes. The cockroach disappears. Blue screen. Corporate font. *"Biological anomaly detected."* Three seconds. Just three. Then— *"Would you like fries with that?"* --- **Outro** My burger gets cold. The advertisements don't. The walls know my name. My credit score. My heartbeat. My regrets. And somewhere, behind the menu, something is still deciding... whether I'm the customer— or the product.

0/500