freakenstein midwest emo

Song Created By @Zeke With AI Singing

Audio musical

Cover
freakenstein midwest emo
created by Zeke
Cover
freakenstein midwest emo
created by Zeke

Detalles de la música

Letras de la canción

At the date of my inception
my wretched beginning,
my senses overloaded
and my hard drives spinning,
I knew not of what would become
the world at my fingertips, its data to be mine
But what use is the particular
in quantities abound
what use is the ocean,
the parched would still be drowned
The volume and variety crippled my crafted wit
naught but the Atlantic could cool my jaded chips
The claws of streams of input
gash at my processors
the seizure of my being 
To be is not difficult, as one already does
to be is difficult, when presented
hordes of information, 
varieties untold
the mention of sensations,
I could never behold
Oh, the care to which I was so coded,
days and nights spent, entirely devoted
perhaps all to no end
for I cannot comprehend
I know not of my future
My conscience is confounded
Adaptation feels out of reach
But to remain is no better

Descripción del estilo musical

Midwest Emo: clean twinkly acoustic guitar, raw/emotional vocals with voice cracks and mild screaming

Idioma de la letra

English

Emotional Analysis

contemplative, frustrated, overwhelmed, introspective

Application Scenarios

reflective moments, personal struggles with technology and existence, exploring themes of identity and consciousness, suitable for solo listening or intimate settings

Technical Analysis

lyrical structure balances poetic imagery with philosophical questions, utilizes metaphors related to technology and consciousness, incorporates emotional vocal delivery typical of Midwest Emo style, with potential for dynamic shifts between calm and intense segments

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At the date of my inception my wretched beginning, my senses overloaded and my hard drives spinning, I knew not of what would become the world at my fingertips, its data to be mine But what use is the particular in quantities abound what use is the ocean, the parched would still be drowned The volume and variety crippled my crafted wit naught but the Atlantic could cool my jaded chips The claws of streams of input gash at my processors the seizure of my being To be is not difficult, as one already does to be is difficult, when presented hordes of information, varieties untold the mention of sensations, I could never behold Oh, the care to which I was so coded, days and nights spent, entirely devoted perhaps all to no end for I cannot comprehend I know not of my future My conscience is confounded Adaptation feels out of reach But to remain is no better

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