MYCELIAL KISS
[Verse 1]
My odd brain sees what’s next—
a root-map glowing beneath the pavement.
I send tiny spores of prophecy
through the ethernet of soil.
[Pre-Chorus]
Underfoot, the city’s subconscious
twitches—
a million fungal neurons
typing me in morse.
[Chorus]
You walk above, unaware your soles
are downloading my dreams.
Each stride sprouts a silent mushroom,
bioluminescent Morse.
[Verse 2]
The time we talk
is a spore-print on midnight glass—
illusion so thin you can see stars
breathing underneath.
[Bridge – tempo drops, soil-field recordings]
Let the metropolis exhale brick-dust.
We will meet inside the hollow ring
where language turns to scent.
I’ll offer you a single spore;
swallow it and hear the planet think.
[Verse 3]
Your pupils widen—suddenly cathedral.
The mycelium choir sings through your capillaries:
“Grow, grow, grow sideways—
never break the surface, just glow.”
[Reversed Refrain – spore-whisper]
wonk I, wonk I, wonk I…
[Chorus – full mushroom-gospel, 12-layer vocal]
Mycelial kiss, mycelial kiss—
tongue of root, lip of loam.
We fruitbodied lovers
blink out spores like wedding confetti.
[Breakdown – only sub-bass & heart-flutter]
[Spoken, pitch-shifted]
“Every tree is a telephone,
every grave is a router.
Death is just the final upload—
we’re the gentle malware of return.”
[Final Chorus]
It’s all an illusion—
but the illusion composts.
We will wake up covered in moss,
holding hands that have become
entire forests.
[Outro – distant traffic filtered through lo-fi spores]
Streetlights flicker like dying glow-worms.
We dissolve into each other’s hyphae—
two spores that forgot the word for “alone,”
remembering only
“home, home, home…”