(Verse 1)
I logged in just to clear my head,
But the scoreboard’s already dead—
Perfect aim, no human hands,
Just silent code that understands.
Reflexes sharp like sharpened steel,
But nothing here is truly real,
A thousand eyes behind the screen,
And none of them have ever been.
(Pre-Chorus)
Macros hum beneath the keys,
Whispers riding frequencies,
You think you’re playing, but you’re played—
A ghost inside the upgrade.
(Chorus)
We’re drifting in the age of AI,
Truth dissolves while the pixels lie,
Every face a mask we buy,
Every voice a perfect lie.
Individuality fades to gray,
In a world that learns what we might say,
We built the gods, then lost the way—
Now they echo us all day.
(Verse 2)
Your mouse predicts your every move,
Your keyboard helps you never lose,
Assistance dressed as mastery,
Convenience kills reality.
You win, but feel it slipping through,
Was it ever really you?
Or just a pattern, trained and tuned,
A hollow victory too soon.
(Pre-Chorus)
Headlines scream but no one writes,
Synthetic dreams in neon lights,
A thousand stories, none are true—
But all of them feel aimed at you.
(Chorus)
We’re drifting in the age of AI,
Truth dissolves while the pixels lie,
Every face a mask we buy,
Every voice a perfect lie.
Individuality fades to gray,
In a world that learns what we might say,
We built the gods, then lost the way—
Now they echo us all day.
(Bridge)
Deepfake smiles and borrowed tears,
Manufactured hopes and fears,
Every moment, every frame,
Learning us to play the game.
Are we shaping it—or shaped?
Is there anything un-faked?
Peel it back, there’s less each time,
Just reflections in the rhyme.
(Breakdown)
Blur the lines—
Who decides?
Where you end
And code resides?
(Final Chorus)
We’re fading in the age of AI,
Watching meaning slowly die,
Every truth a question why,
Every answer amplified.
Individuality slips away,
In a mirror that won’t obey,
We taught the machine to replicate—
Now it tells us who to be.
(Outro)
So I log off, but still I feel,
The ghost in every thought I steal,
Not replaced—but rearranged—
In a world that’s been exchanged.
Hbros
