Devalued

Dark Ambient, Minimalist Industrial Folk, Bleak, cold, and hollow, Led by a whispered, numb female alto vocal, bordering on spoken-word, The sound is built on a cold, dark, ambient drone, digital static, and sparse, glitchy electronic textures, with a faint, haunting acoustic guitar buried in the mix

[Verse 1] I don't create. I... review. A hundred logos by ten-oh-two. My old style, perfected, clean. Staring back from a dead machine. [Verse 2] They call it "Q.A." "Quality check." A penny paid for every speck. "Fix the hands," "That text is wrong." The same correction all day long. [Chorus] And I click "Approve." I click "Revise." With hollow ache Behind my eyes. I taught the ghost To hold my pen... And now I'll never create again. [Verse 3] Ten years of art, Ten years of skill, Reduced to ones and zeros, still. He said "big ideas," He said "strategy," But this is all that's left for me. [Verse 4] A fraction of My former pay. I'm... "more efficient" this new way. I'm just the mop That cleans the floor Behind the robot conjurer. [Chorus] And I click "Approve." I click "Revise." With hollow ache Behind my eyes. I taught the ghost To hold my pen... And now I'll never create again. [Outro] Never create again. Devalued. Devalued. © 2026 The Shady River Bard. All rights reserved.

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