He glows too hard for someone real

Mirror skin and a borrowed smile,
Perfume thick to hide the guile.
Talks in loops, rehearsed replies,
Every truth a cheap disguise.
Gold on wrist, but rust inside,
Every story pre-applied.
Looks like love from far away,
Up close — plastic in the sway.

He’s fake, can’t feel his tone,
He’s fake, made of phone.
Every move’s a masquerade,
Every touch pre-programmed fade.

Filter glow on his perfect face,
Even lies got flawless grace.
Name-drop dreams he never earned,
Plays the saint when the cameras turn.
Heart on feed, but none in bed,
Speaks in quotes that someone said.
All his shine just burns too fast,
A spark designed, never meant to last.

He’s fake, can’t feel his tone,
He’s fake, made of phone.
Every move’s a masquerade,
Every touch pre-programmed fade.

I used to fall for that kind of face,
Symmetry sharp, but empty space.
Now I read the code, not the eyes,
Can’t be fooled by digitized lies.

He’s fake, can’t feel his tone,
He’s fake, made of phone.
Every move’s a masquerade,
Every touch pre-programmed fade.
He’s fake — and now I know,
Real hearts don’t need that glow.

He's fake (Alternative R&B reload)

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available — human or machine — as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

He's fake (Alternative R&B reload)

Terminalose