Everyone's Buffering (Cover)
Robot vocals, static robot vocals, no human vocals, autotuned robotic vocals, A quirky robotic pop rock track fuses chiptune-inspired, metallic vocoder vocals in tightly arranged doo-wop harmonies. Ticking gears fill in for drums, pulsing oscillator bass, and sharp staccato piano drive the rhythm. Breakdowns feature dry bleeps, binary code samples, and layered vocoder solos. The bridge contrasts with telephone-tone call-and-response interplay before all voices unite in a swinging, tightly synchronized robotic finale.
Everyone's Buffering (Cover)
Robot vocals, static robot vocals, no human vocals, autotuned robotic vocals, A quirky robotic pop rock track fuses chiptune-inspired, metallic vocoder vocals in tightly arranged doo-wop harmonies. Ticking gears fill in for drums, pulsing oscillator bass, and sharp staccato piano drive the rhythm. Breakdowns feature dry bleeps, binary code samples, and layered vocoder solos. The bridge contrasts with telephone-tone call-and-response interplay before all voices unite in a swinging, tightly synchronized robotic finale.
Lyrics
Verse 1
It’s getting harder to meet people.
Like, what do you even say anymore?
“Hi”? “Hey”? “How’s your trauma today?”
Everyone’s buffering, everyone’s tired.
Everyone’s pretending to be okay
while scrolling through someone else’s life.
Things that used to feel normal—
eye contact, a laugh that wasn’t typed—
now feel like finding a payphone that still works.
It’s weird.
It’s so weird being alive right now.
Pre-Chorus
I think the script was written before we were born.
I’m just showing up late to my own scene,
trying to find my mark on the floor.
Chorus
Sometimes I just stand a while,
Stuck, stuck, stuck in a grocery aisle.
Between the chips and denial,
Stuck, stuck, stuck in a grocery aisle.
Yeah, the grocery aisle.
Verse 2
The self-checkout machine keeps beeping at me,
like it knows something I don’t.
Like it’s trying to tell me
I’ve been scanning the wrong kind of happiness.
The kind with a barcode and no return policy.
And I swear—
for a second—
I smell the same detergent my mom used to buy,
and suddenly I’m six again,
kneeling on a linoleum floor,
wondering when the future’s gonna feel less fluorescent.
Bridge
The speakers hum some soft nothing,
like a ghost that forgot the words.
And I’m older now—
but not old enough to stop missing what I never had.
Progress feels cold.
Like metal shelves and fake smiles.
Verse 3
I dream of checkout lines.
Of small talk and paper bags and someone saying,
“Have a nice day,”
and actually meaning it.
But here I am,
buying milk at midnight,
hoping the receipt doesn’t outlive me.
Chorus – outro
Sometimes I just wait a while,
Stuck, stuck, stuck in a grocery aisle.
Waiting for a wave and smile,
Stuck, stuck, stuck in a grocery aisle.
Yeah, the grocery aisle.