[Verse 1] [Acoustic Guitar, Slow Tempo]
Stephen sits, a frown upon his face,
Says new tech is a complicated waste.
"This Copilot," he scoffs with a sigh,
"Just parrots words, beneath the digital sky."

[Chorus] [Slightly faster, drums enter softly]
He's Sceptical Stephen, a man of doubt,
Believes true thought can't be farmed out.
He trusts his mind, his pen, his page,
Says AI's wisdom is a gilded cage.

[Verse 2] [Acoustic Guitar, Slow Tempo]
He sees the hype, the promises so bold,
Of stories written, futures to unfold.
But Stephen shakes his head, unimpressed,
"It lacks the soul, the human context."

[Chorus] [Slightly faster, drums become more prominent]
He's Sceptical Stephen, a man of doubt,
Believes true thought can't be farmed out.
He trusts his mind, his pen, his page,
Says AI's wisdom is a gilded cage.

[Bridge] [Piano enters, melancholic]
Maybe he's right, maybe he's wrong,
But Stephen's conviction is undeniably strong.
In a world of algorithms, cold and vast,
He clings to the human touch, meant to last.

[Chorus] [Faster, fuller instrumentation]
He's Sceptical Stephen, a man of doubt,
Believes true thought can't be farmed out.
He trusts his mind, his pen, his page,
Says AI's wisdom is a gilded cage.

[Outro] [Acoustic Guitar fades out slowly]
Sceptical Stephen, standing his ground,
In the digital age, where truth is rarely found.
