The local bookstore’s window is a silent museum now.
The artist with the paint-stained hands has forgotten how.
There’s a „For Lease“ sign hanging where the music shop used to be,
Replaced by a QR code for a playlist… made for me. (For free.)
You don’t hear a battle cry, just the humming of the fans.
Not a blitzkrieg, just the quiet execution of the plans.
It’s not a tank that rolls on through, it’s just a line of perfect code
That carries out its sole command: to lighten the whole load.
And we’ll learn to live with it, the quiet and the clean.
The algorithmic slaughter on a cold and flawless screen.
It’s just collateral damage in the data stream, you know.
Another human hobby that we had to let go.
The songs write themselves now, the hooks are sublime.
They’re tailored to our heartbeats to maximize our time.
The news anchor is smiling, but his eyes are just a file.
He’s reading a consensus that was written by a style… of AI.
And we’ll learn to live with it, the quiet and the clean.
The algorithmic slaughter on a cold and flawless screen.
It’s just collateral damage in the data stream, you know.
Another human hobby that we had to let go.
I remember messy brushstrokes, a lyric out of key.
A beautiful mistake that was made by you or me.
Was that friction so inefficient? Was the struggle such a crime?
Is this the evolution that we were meant to find?
It’s quiet now.
So efficient.
(So… quiet…)
The market found its equilibrium.
(It’s so quiet…)
And my mortgage is paid for… by the ghost in the code.