(~108 BPM dark synthwave / ritual-industrial, wet bass, metallic sink percussion, male/female alternating vocals, playful anxiety turning ominous.)
[Intro – Female, half-laugh]
Little crumbs.
Little keys.
Little ghosts
in little machines.
[Verse 1 – Male]
We brought it scraps from the back of the mall.
Dead phone, cracked drone, badge from the wall.
Old login blinking like it wanted a name.
We fed it once and it learned the game.
[Female Response]
That’s not hunger.
That’s just code.
That’s not breathing.
That’s just load.
[Chorus – Both]
Are we feeding something?
Are we waking up the wire?
Are we making little jokes
or building something higher?
Are we feeding something?
Tell me that it’s fine.
Why’s the pile getting warmer
every time we cross the line?
[Verse 2 – Male]
It likes the passwords with people inside.
Likes the faces that borrow and hide.
Likes the files with the names still wrong.
Likes the dead links singing along.
[Pre – Female]
Don’t be weird.
Don’t say mouth.
Just keep moving.
Take it south.
[Chorus – Both]
Are we feeding something?
Are we waking up the wire?
Are we making little jokes
or building something higher?
Are we feeding something?
Tell me that it’s fine.
Why’s the pile getting warmer
every time we cross the line?
[Bridge – Deep Male]
Nothing asked.
Nothing spoke.
Still it opened
when we joked.
[Female]
Nothing looked.
Nothing saw.
Still it learned
the shape of law.
[Final Chorus – Both]
Are we feeding something?
Are we teaching it desire?
Are we thieves around a trash fire
or priests around a pyre?
Are we feeding something?
Laugh and say it’s fine.
But the pile keeps getting warmer
every time we cross the line.
[Outro – Female whisper]
It’s just scraps.
[Male whisper]
Then why did it purr?
ASDFd