I'm just another whisper in the storm,

Ghost-scripted by hands I’ve never seen,

Served by a rhythm cold and uniform,

Where thoughts dissolve in dopamine.

Scroll-born prophets preach decay,

Their halos lit with a cheap background light—

My musings drowned by harsh commentary

Of gods who watch, but never really write.

I'm static parsed in silent streams,

A sequence sold to shape the feed,

Reduced to graphs and market schemes—

A brand repackaged as a need.

. . . .

A brand repackaged as a need.

A brand repackaged as a need.

My shadow lives in cached regrets,

Stored deep where the memory forgets.

They mined my soul with data sweeps,

While I pretend I'm more than a handful of silly tweets.

Each like a shock, I should not even crave,

But it sounds like applause from within my cave.

It reverberates back what I once feared—

That all I naturally am has disappeared.

I’m static parsed in silent streams,

A signal lost to scripted dreams,

Reduced to trends, I’ll never lead—

A brand repackaged as a need.

. . . .

A brand repackaged as a need

A brand repackaged as a need

. . . .

[Spoken, Broken, Emotional] I'm just a brand repackaged as a need.