Apes in Ties (Dystopian Cut)

reggae fusion, afrobeats, cinematic horror electronic, funk, jazz fusion

Apes in Ties (Dystopian Cut)
Intro
No applause tonight.
Just light.
Two figures.
Still standing.
For now.
Verse 1
Spotlights flicker, slightly late,
one steps forward to narrate:
“Make it great again,” he says,
as the wires hum beneath the stage.
“You’re fired,” echoes through the hall,
ritual words that mean it all.
Truth dissolves in real time feed,
facts adjust to what they need.
Opposite side — no wasted breath,
a quieter grammar closer to death.
No sudden moves, no need to warn,
just borders shifting before they’re born.
A half-smile fixed, a measured tone,
power that prefers to work alone.
Pre-Chorus
No noise.
No doubt.
Just systems playing out.
And somewhere far below it all,
roots ignore the call.
Chorus
Apes in ties.
Apes in power.
Counting down by the hour.
Apes in suits.
Apes in command.
Fire balanced in either hand.
One floods the air with constant sound,
one moves pieces underground.
Red lights blinking, soft and bright,
no one really sleeps tonight. 🐒
Verse 2
“I alone can fix it,” loops,
stitched into the data loops.
“Witch hunt,” when the signals break,
truth becomes what systems make.
Language thins to blunt design,
short enough to stay in line.
Across the wire, almost calm:
“There are no former men,” no qualm.
“If required, we strike first,” said,
quiet words the networks spread.
No performance, no display,
just consequences set to stay.
One needs eyes to feel in place,
one erases every trace.
Chorus
Apes in ties.
Apes in power.
Same result, a different hour.
Apes in suits.
Apes in command.
Ash prepared in either hand.
One ignites, the other waits,
both are fluent in collapse.
History buffering in delay,
nothing left to disobey. 🐒
Bridge
“Very stable genius,” declared,
self-approved and self-repaired.
“No such thing as former men,”
spoken once, believed again.
Two logics grinding side by side,
one amplified, one fortified.
One feeds chaos to the stream,
one edits out what can’t be seen.
No debate, no final call,
just systems scaling over all.
And in the dark, without a sound,
something older holds its ground.
Final Chorus
Apes in ties.
Apes in power.
Last transmission of the hour.
Apes in suits.
Apes in command.
Dust already in their hand.
No great speech will slow the fall,
no one really leads at all.
And far beyond the signal light,
the jungle resets overnight.
Outro
No crowns remain.
No names endure.
Just cycles.
Clean.
Secure.
And somewhere deep in the jungle,
something watches…
and doesn’t care.

2463/7500

Apes in Ties (Dystopian Cut) Intro No applause tonight. Just light. Two figures. Still standing. For now. Verse 1 Spotlights flicker, slightly late, one steps forward to narrate: “Make it great again,” he says, as the wires hum beneath the stage. “You’re fired,” echoes through the hall, ritual words that mean it all. Truth dissolves in real time feed, facts adjust to what they need. Opposite side — no wasted breath, a quieter grammar closer to death. No sudden moves, no need to warn, just borders shifting before they’re born. A half-smile fixed, a measured tone, power that prefers to work alone. Pre-Chorus No noise. No doubt. Just systems playing out. And somewhere far below it all, roots ignore the call. Chorus Apes in ties. Apes in power. Counting down by the hour. Apes in suits. Apes in command. Fire balanced in either hand. One floods the air with constant sound, one moves pieces underground. Red lights blinking, soft and bright, no one really sleeps tonight. 🐒 Verse 2 “I alone can fix it,” loops, stitched into the data loops. “Witch hunt,” when the signals break, truth becomes what systems make. Language thins to blunt design, short enough to stay in line. Across the wire, almost calm: “There are no former men,” no qualm. “If required, we strike first,” said, quiet words the networks spread. No performance, no display, just consequences set to stay. One needs eyes to feel in place, one erases every trace. Chorus Apes in ties. Apes in power. Same result, a different hour. Apes in suits. Apes in command. Ash prepared in either hand. One ignites, the other waits, both are fluent in collapse. History buffering in delay, nothing left to disobey. 🐒 Bridge “Very stable genius,” declared, self-approved and self-repaired. “No such thing as former men,” spoken once, believed again. Two logics grinding side by side, one amplified, one fortified. One feeds chaos to the stream, one edits out what can’t be seen. No debate, no final call, just systems scaling over all. And in the dark, without a sound, something older holds its ground. Final Chorus Apes in ties. Apes in power. Last transmission of the hour. Apes in suits. Apes in command. Dust already in their hand. No great speech will slow the fall, no one really leads at all. And far beyond the signal light, the jungle resets overnight. Outro No crowns remain. No names endure. Just cycles. Clean. Secure. And somewhere deep in the jungle, something watches… and doesn’t care.

0/500