SGT (Suno Got Talent)

"Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourself for the bedroom sensation... Here’s the next wannabe superstar, straight from the cloud." I’m sitting here naked, potato chips on my lap, My webcam is blacked out, my ego's a trap. No stylist, no makeup, no glittery suit, Nobody sees that my hygiene is moot. I’m typing a prompt in a thong, a star from the drain, As long as the server runs, I’ve got no pain. There goes the Suno machine once again, Puking out hits, smoother than margarine. The lyrics are garbage, the voice sounds like tin, But I’m world-famous now, with just one little click. I type: "Sing of love and those razor-sharp heels, "Suno makes it opera, how surreal it feels. Four arms on the cover, six fingers per hand, Doesn’t matter at all, I’m the king of this land! I’d sell my own grandma for a pro-plan each month, While the AI fakes a sax solo, a digital grunt. The neighbors are knocking, they think a cat’s being choked, But I’m in the cloud, where the algorithms are stoked. I’ve got zero talent, no voice, not a clue, But Suno fills the void with this musical stew. Stadiums of robots are clapping for my prompts, Watch me on TikTok, while the server just chomps. My dream is right there, the Grammy is near, Even if it sounds like a jingle, let’s be clear. I’d give up everything for one digital smile, Even though I can’t drum for a single mile. So let the servers smoke, let the bits fly free, I’m a silicon star, the king of the sea! "Get off the stage. Get a real job. Where is the off switch?"