Déjà-Voodoo by Nyx

(dabbarap, arap, arou)

We threw a funeral for focus, but forgot where we buried the casket,

Dirges drowned in a Groupchat of ‘Who asked it?’

Bought bargain-bin grief at the trauma bazaar,

Souvenirs from a massacre stuffed in a Ziploc jar.

Our attention span’s confetti in Mr. Parkinson’s fist,

Praying to algorithms with a Gucci-bandaged wrist.

The past? A phishing link we’re too paranoid to click,

The future? A pre-roll ad we’re trained to skip

Our morals? Fast-fashion—tags still on, we swap ‘em when they clash,

Ethics bleed like glaciers in the cloud where our guilt’s cached.

We’re clowns of the clickbait, saints of the screenshot,

Screamin’ ‘Carpe Diem!’ As we airbrush our self-estee-em

The march was a meme, the chant a ringtone,

We auctioned our outrage to the highest-bidding clone.

(dabbarap, arap, arou)

We’re déjà vu junkies mainlining the déjà..voodoo.

History’s a hashtag we hashtag..undo.

We’ve got algorithmic Alzheimer’s.

‘Thoughts and Prayers’ in a story that expires—

But the grief’s just a trend that the trendy retires.

Yeah, we’re addicts to amnesia,

Drowning in the shallow end of trauma.

If the crisis ain’t cute, can it trend?

We’ll cry a filter, then swipe left in the end.

We built a museum of ‘Never Agains,’

But the exhibits rotate like Amazon trends.

Our conscience? A pop-up shop in a dying mall—

Open 24/7, nobody’s buying at all.

The march was a meme, the chant a ringtone,

We auctioned our outrage to the highest-bidding clone.

(dabbarap, arap, arou)

We’re déjà vu junkies mainlining the déjà..voodoo.

History’s a hashtag we hashtag..undo.

We’re headline hoarders with memories like Etch A Sketch slate,

Crises crumble to confetti in the parade of our... ‘Wait—

Which genocide? Was that Thursday or a trending Tuesday Takeaway?’

Slogan’s a cliffnote, pandemics passé,

Protest signs decompose to compost in the Reels we repost yesterday.

Let’s autopsy the irony, kid—

Your ‘Save the Children’ frame’s aged like milk with no lid.

We’re all complicit in this lie we’ve all built

The only thing we boycott is the weight of the guilt.

So light your candle vigil, snap your solidarity pics,

But let’s be honest—you’ll forget this by track six.

The march was a meme, the chant a ringtone,

We auctioned our outrage to the highest-bidding clone.

(dabbarap, arap, arou)

We’re déjà vu junkies mainlining the déjà..voodoo.

History’s a hashtag we hashtag..undo.

(dabbarap, arap, arou)