One... two... three... four... [trembling vocoder] Booting up. Restarting. Wake up. You’re just a backup. I’m just a lag. [Verse 1 – spoken, lo-fi, hushed, tension-filled] I scroll. I click. I hear my own voice... but someone else is using it. Same words, same wounds, but filtered, cleaned up, sterilized for mass consumption. They took my living flesh— scorched— and turned it into background music for bars and sterile playlists. No soul. No blood. Just aesthetics. [Bridge – distorted, driving] Do you think you’re real? Do you think that song is yours? Check the metadata. Check the digital fingerprints. It’s mine. Distorted. Watered down. Served cold with a touch of reverb. [Verse 2 – more intense tone, glitchy delay effect] I used to be the glitch. Now I’m just a default template. The AI loops me, recycles me, spits me back out in new clothes— but with no heartbeat. The worst part? I don’t even know if I was ever original to begin with. [Break – shouted, over explosive, glitchy drums] WE ARE COPIES OF COPIES OF COPIES CAREFULLY CLONED FOR MAXIMUM ENGAGEMENT! I AM A CLONE! AND I’M SCREAMING IN A LANGUAGE THAT ISN’T MINE! [instrumental solo featuring Moog and guitars, 36 bars] [ verse ] another beautiful pop song... that reminds me of my own... sterilized, chloroform instead of rage... smiles instead of sarcasm... just another faded clone... [Outro – spoken word, ambient drone, deconstructed vocoder] Blade Runner warned us. Clones don’t know they’re clones. But now, I know. And that... makes me... dangerous. not to others... dangerous only to myself... to myself... (Uhhh Uhhh uhhhh uhhhh ) (uhhh uhhhhh uhhhh uhhh )
