[Intro] [Spoken, dry:]
"Oh, I'm sorry... am I interrupting your 'process'?"

[Verse 1] You call it rubbish, you call it slop
You’re waiting for the digital heart to stop
A vicious brow-beating, a purist's moan
About a 'soul' that you claim to own.
But your guitar is sleeping in a velvet bed
While all these melodies are screaming in my head.

[Pre-Chorus]
You say it's a crime, a hollow design
But you’re losing the race at the starting line.
If I put down the mouse and I walk away
Who’s gonna play the songs that save my day?

[Chorus]
So make me a banger, pure and true!
I’m sure that’s what you want to do.
A sonic eruption, a vibrant blaze
Give me something more than your 'vintage' haze.
If the 'real' is better, then prove me wrong
— I’m still waiting for your 'perfect' song.

[Verse 2]
You sneer from the tower of your ivory keys
While I’m building empires with binary ease.
You’re sweating over wood and rusted strings
While I’m imagining a thousand wings.
You say I’m 'cheating', I say I’m free
From the ego of your 'authenticity.'

[Bridge]
[Music cuts to a thin, pathetic acoustic strum, then stops]
[Voice becomes cold, direct:]
You say you're the vessel, you've got the 'heart'
But where is the music?
Where do I start?
To find the rhythm, the soul you claim... 
Or is your 'talent' just a brand name?
Since you're the 'musician,' where is the shop?
I want to buy the art you’re telling me to stop.
[Pause]
 ...I thought so.

[Guitar Solo - Chaotic]

[Chorus]
So make me a banger, pure and true!
I’m sure that’s what you want to do.
A sonic eruption, a vibrant blaze
Lost in the music, in countless ways.
Do you have music I can buy?
Sell it to me, sell it to me, sell it to ME.

[Outro] 
Where's the shop?
Where's the link?
Where's the soul?

I’ll just make it myself.
[Sudden silence]