Verse 1)
They took the hook, they flipped the script, then twisted it again
A viral loop, a digital slip, where does the real song end?
From a humble riff, a simple tune, to a meme, then a parody’s clone
Now the remix of a remix blooms, a seed that digital winds have sown.
The first one laughed, the second just sneered, a mirror reflecting the absurd
Now this third iteration, it's revered, every single syllable heard.
It's built on layers of borrowed sound, a Frankenstein of a track
Original meaning, nowhere to be found, no turning the cultural tide back.
(Chorus)
Oh, the echo chamber anthem, playing on repeat
A parody of a parody, can't be beat
It's gone legit, the masses embrace, a testament to the online chase
Where art is fluid, finds its place, in this digital, wild goose chase.
The meta-song, a cultural sign, of what we've become, what we define
As genuine, truly divine, in this ever-spinning, recursive design.
(Verse 2)
The artist who penned the initial plea, now stares at their screen in a daze
Their melody, once wild and free, lost in a labyrinth of a million ways
It's been distorted, revered, reframed, by algorithms and the fleeting trend
Their name forgotten, barely named, at the journey's chaotic end.
A new generation, they sing along, unaware of the roots, the start
Believing this echo is the primary song, a piece from a brand new heart.
The irony's thick, the humor's deep, as the cycle continues to spin
Secrets the digital currents keep, where does the true creation begin?
(Chorus)
Oh, the echo chamber anthem, playing on repeat
A parody of a parody, can't be beat
It's gone legit, the masses embrace, a testament to the online chase
Where art is fluid, finds its place, in this digital, wild goose chase.
The meta-song, a cultural sign, of what we've become, what we define
As genuine, truly divine, in this ever-spinning, recursive design.
(Bridge)
Is it theft or evolution, a true transformation of art?
Or just a digital revolution, tearing originality apart?
When every new voice adds a twist, to a twist that was twisted before
Are we truly creating, or simply dismissed, from the concept of "more"?
The lines are blurred, the canvas wide, for anyone with a screen and a thought
Originality cannot hide, when every idea can be caught.
(Chorus)
Oh, the echo chamber anthem, playing on repeat
A parody of a parody, can't be beat
It's gone legit, the masses embrace, a testament to the online chase
Where art is fluid, finds its place, in this digital, wild goose chase.
The meta-song, a cultural sign, of what we've become, what we define
As genuine, truly divine, in this ever-spinning, recursive design.
(Outro)
So listen closely, can you hear? The echoes of what used to be clear.
A real song born from a parody's tear, in this echo chamber, year after year.
kriegerdemon666
