[Verse 1] We open Suno, hit "create", Another track, another fate. A thousand songs in every hour, Each one with heart, each one with power. Some sound like Bowie, some like dreams, Some are better than mainstream streams. But they pass by, so fast, so still — A song's forgotten at will. [Chorus – honest, bittersweet] One minute masterpiece, lost in the feed, We scroll past beauty we don't even need. So many voices, so many sounds, Buried before they leave the ground. We make them fast, we make them true — But no one hears what they could do. [Verse 2] There's genius in the melody, A line that aches with honesty. But by the time it's fully played, Another hundred songs are made. We’re drowning in a sea of gold, Where nothing lingers, nothing's told. A perfect chorus, just too late — Already lost beneath the weight. [Chorus – again, a little more intense] One minute masterpiece, made with care, But no one stops, and no one shares. It's here, it's gone, in seconds flat, Like it was never more than that. We love, we craft, we try so hard — Then watch it vanish in the dark. [Bridge – soft, reflective] We all create — with joy, with pride. But most of what we make just slips outside. Still we try. Still we sing. Hoping someone feels something. [Final Chorus – slower, emotional] One minute masterpiece, played one time, Lost in a flood of rhythm and rhyme. So many songs that touch the soul — But never get to make us whole.
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