It’s all shadows on the wall
’til their legs stop to shake
Pocket contents falling
Breaking, lemon wedge unbitten
This didn’t match the brief
When we emerged from the sea

The pupa unwraps
Cicada crawls
Disappointment sets
Imagine how this feels for them
No sheets, no ropes
No umbilical cord
No tie on the door
And no curse that
Thinks for us all

The factories that manufactured our past
Are busy editing the versions that live in others
Not every future filmed will last
And not everyone will come to see the edit

And I like the me in you more
But not the you in me
Especially not the you
In the ghost of a machine

We designed it all along
And gamble for fidelity
Of this duck tape prototype
On my ugly desk
I’ve seen it and
It’s fucking grotesque
Is it even sex, without the special effects?

After the tree of knowledge’s bourne
Sweet poisonous fruit
And we’ve eaten, yet still hungry
Let’s put some bullshit down stat
So there’s something

It’s a process
Diffusion models write eulogies from their hearts
Our meat is processed in plants and dressed
We have decision trees to feed our daemons’ needs
For the reinforcement of our neurotic repetition
To fuel some sweet feelings we may one day be victors

The factories that manufactured our past
Are busy editing the versions that live in others
Not every future filmed will last
And not everyone will come to see the edit

And I like the me in you more
But not the you in me
Especially not the you
In the ghost of a machine