Brain Froze Therapy

HOOK (shadowy, echoing, Neighborhood-style)

Scroll, scroll—

Another dopamine hit in a black hole.

Brain froze—

I can’t tell if I’m alive or just in auto-mode.

Talkin’ in slang like it’s code,

“Bet,” “W,” “Cook,” overload—

Yeah my mind’s been overclocked,

Got that brain rot, can’t even stop.

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VERSE 1 (Arctic Monkeys swagger, animated, modern)

My phone buzz like a phantom in a leather jacket,

Every notification pullin’ strings like a bad habit.

You said “Why you speak like TikTok stitched your tongue into a meme?”

I said “Lowkey,” then “Bruh,” then something in-between.

Lost my mind in the algorithm,

Caught a vibe but the vibe’s gone missin’.

I’m doom-scrollin’ like it’s ritual sin,

Lookin’ at my screen like, “Ayo, I’m Him?”

Ironically, unironically—

It’s hysterically dystopian comedy.

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PRE-HOOK (brooding, grayscale vibe)

You asked me why my thoughts glitch like a corrupted file,

I said “Skibidi,” just to watch you lose your mind for a while.

You said “What’s wrong with you?” — I couldn’t even lie,

Just gave you that blank stare like NPC with dead inside.

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HOOK (bigger, darker)

Scroll, scroll—

Another dopamine hit in a black hole.

Brain froze—

I can’t tell if I’m alive or just in auto-mode.

Talkin’ in slang like it’s code,

“Villain,” “Sigma,” “W,” overload—

Got me trapped, mind on lock,

Yeah that brain rot don’t ever stop.

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VERSE 2 (heavier, Arctic Monkeys night-drive energy)

Caught myself sayin’ “Gyatt” to a passing breeze,

Someone sneezed—my brain said “Rizz!” with zero dignity.

My vocabulary got mugged in an alley by Zoomers,

Now I’m speakin’ like a glitchy AI rumor.

You said “Touch grass—get off your phone, lad,”

But my attention span’s on a government-mandated rehab.

Tryna detox from the digital plague,

But got FOMO whisperin’ in my ear like a devil in suede.

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BRIDGE (moody, The Neighbourhood vibe)

I tried to pray to God,

But the autocorrect said “Gawd.”

I tried to talk to you,

But all that left my lips was “Fr, no cap. Deadass. On God.”

What have I become?

Some creature of the feed?

An echo born from memes,

Addicted to the screen?

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OUTRO (fading, cinematic)

Scroll… scroll…

Mind gone cold.

Brain rot took hold…

And I just go with the algorithm’s flow.