The Immaculate Glitch

Within my shell...
Insulated.
My inner self...
Agitated.
All this chaos out there...
It’s like a sensory tide,
that keeps on churning.
Yet somewhere,
deep inside,
I feel a yearning...
even though I know

It’s so hard...
To be understood;
to walk the straight line,
with the rest of the herd.
It’s so hard...
But I’m still in the game.
There’s a spark in my heart,
glimmering through the shame.

My worried eyes...
Criticizing.
My weary mind...
Analyzing—
all this toxic fakeness,
that I just can’t seem to abide...
and my rage is burning.
Yet somehow,
deep inside,
I still feel that yearning...
even though I know

It’s so hard...
To be understood;
to walk the straight line,
with the rest of the herd.
It’s so hard...
but I’m still in the game.
There’s a spark in my heart,
glimmering through the shame.

I get tired of this constant striving,
lost inside these storms which never cease.
But at times, I’ll feel like I’m arriving;
like the puzzle finally fits the piece.

All thanks to that
persistent spark
within my heart,
driving me on
and on again,
especially when

It’s so hard...
To be understood;
to walk the straight line,
with the rest of the herd.
It’s so hard...
but I’m still in the game.
There’s a spark in my heart,
glimmering...

The Spark

He was born middle class,
but he became a czar.
He runs six social apps
and a webinar.
He’s got twenty-five wives
and a thousand cars.
He owns a chain of hotels
and a shitload of bars.

His moral fiber is so very sparse:
He killed all his rivals
and some guy named Lars.
He thinks that democracy
is just a big farce.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

He is spending big money;
he is blowing his wad
on a gargantuan rocket
with a pair of huge pods.
But the tests flights run badly,
and his rocket goes boom;
So he fires some people,
then he rants and he fumes.

He enjoys vintage wines
and rare caviars.
He keeps Kopi Luwak
in Baccarat jars.
He collects fine art
and iconic guitars.
He jams with Paul McCartney
and Ringo Starr.

He’ll try out any vice,
no matter how bizarre.
He chills in the Maldives
and parties in Qatar.
He sits in Swiss banks
smoking Cuban cigars.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

He reaches out to his friends
for funds and solutions
from people in governments
and research institutions.
He gives a passionate speech
full of fancy explanations
to the General Assembly
of the United Nations.

His godhood is near,
and his vision is far.
He’ll helm a huge starship,
like Captain Picard.
He’s the king of the world,
and now he thirsts for the stars.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

The rust-red planet
will turn dollar-green
by company drones
sent to set up the scene.
The chosen few will arrive
to establish their claims,
while the rest of us losers
go up in flames.

He is the first; we’re kept for last.
He is the future; we are the past.
He is the first; too bad he’s the worst…
His world will be blessed
while ours remains cursed.

The First Yacht on Mars

“If you can actually count your money,
then you're not a rich man.”

He was born middle class,
but he became a czar.
He runs six social apps
and a webinar.
He’s got twenty-five wives
and a thousand cars.
He owns a chain of hotels
and a shitload of bars.

His moral fiber is so very sparse:
He killed all his rivals
and some guy named Lars.
He thinks that democracy
is just a big farce.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

He is spending big money;
he is blowing his wad
on a gargantuan rocket
with a pair of pods.
But the tests run badly,
and his rocket goes boom;
So he fires some people,
then he rants and he fumes…
’Cause he wants to go to Mars.

He enjoys vintage wines
and rare caviars.
He keeps Kopi Luwak
in Baccarat jars.
He collects fine art
and iconic guitars.
He jams with Paul McCartney
and Ringo Starr.

He’ll try out any vice,
no matter how bizarre.
He chills in the Maldives
and parties in Qatar.
He sits in Swiss banks
smoking Cuban cigars.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

He reaches out to his friends
for funds and solutions
from people in governments
and research institutions.
He gives a passionate speech
full of fancy explanations
to the General Assembly
of the United Nations.

“Earth provides enough
to satisfy every man's need,
but not every man's greed.”

His godhood is near,
and his vision is far.
He’ll helm a huge starship
like Captain Picard.
He’s the king of the world,
and now he thirsts for the stars.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

The rust-red planet
will turn dollar-green
by company drones
sent to set up the scene.
The chosen few will colonize,
staking out their claims
while we, the poor masses,
will go up in flames.
What a bloody shame…
back to the dust
from whence we came…

“The best thing about money
is it gives you options in life.”

He is the first; we’re kept for last.
He is the future; we are the past.
He is the first, he’ll own the universe.
His world will be blessed
while ours remains cursed…
’Cause he simply is the worst.

The First Billionaire on Mars

I’m feeling like it’s time to quit,
to give up all this boring shit.
I guess I’ll sell the things I own,
and sail away to parts unknown.
Sure, it’s a reckless thing to do,
but I went ahead and thought it through.
I’m gonna move far out of reach,
the place is called Komodo Beach.

Komodo Beach, a place of peace,
an isle of joy, a bay of bliss.
The water’s pure, the air is sweet,
the weed is strong, the rum is neat.
Komodo Beach, the sky is clear,
the sand is pink, the sea is sheer.
The dragons bite, but they’re too slow.
Yeah, that is where I wanna go…
That is where I’m gonna go.

I sold my watches, and my flat,
I sold my car and all my tat.
It’s time to give my life the slip,
and find a place aboard a ship.
It’ll have to be a modest boat,
I saved up some, but I ain’t rich,
it’s just enough to keep afloat
while living in Komodo Beach.

Komodo Beach, where money keeps,
the rent is low and food is cheap.
Where you don’t need to work at all,
so take your time and have a ball.
Komodo Beach, the beer is cold,
the palms are green, the sun is gold.
The dragons stink, but that’s okay.
Yeah, that is where I’ll want to stay.

Yeah, I’m gonna ride the dragon!
No, it’s a perfectly rational thing to do.
I’m fine, I just had one spliff
and a couple of beers.
Okay, watch me do it…
Rrrrah!

Komodo Beach…
The perfect place to surf.
Komodo Beach…
A heaven here on earth.
Komodo Beach…
It’s like my dreams came true.
Komodo Beach…
Why don’t you come here too?

Sure, sure, come on over,
just don’t crowd me, don’t crowd me.
Yeah, you know, only the cool people,
ten, twelve at the most, no more.
And spread out, yeah?
So we can all ease into it.
Oh man, that dragon bite really does hurt!
I think I’ll just pour some rum on it.
Uh yeah, that feels great…
Life sure is good.

Komodo Beach

It’s a hot summer day
and I’ve got nothin’ goin’ on.
I think I’ll just sit on my porch,
and soak up the sun.
But I also feel like
having a nice treat…
Let’s think about things
which are good to eat.

Ice cream is sweet,
but I haven’t got any,
and the lemon cake I had,
I gave it to Jenny.
Oh, hey, I know!
I’ve got fruit in my fridge!
A lovely fruit salad
would do in a pinch!

What a wonderful dish,
full of colors and flavor!
A juicy fruit salad is
something to savor.

Fun, fun, fun in the sun…
Yum, yum, yum in my tum…
Fruit salad is the best,
so tasty and full of zest!

So let’s see…
I’ve got apples and grapes
and peaches and plums,
I’ve got apricots and pears
and raisins with rum,
I’ve got cherries and bananas
and pineapple slices,
I think this fruit salad
is gonna be the nicest! 

I take my bunch of fruit
and I peel them all up,
then I get out the board
and I give them the chop,
and lastly,
I mix them in my favourite bowl.
It’s really not complicated at all!

What a wonderful dish,
full of colors and flavor!
A juicy fruit salad is
something to savor.

Fun, fun, fun in the sun…
Yum, yum, yum in my tum…
Fruit salad is the best,
so tasty and full of zest!

I’m now on my porch
with the bowl in my lap,
crunching and munching
and chewing it up.
The sun is so hot
and shiny in the sky…
Fruit salad’s a joy!
I urge you to try.

Fruit Salad

This world requires
all kinds of minds;
you think that I’m broken,
but I’m just fine.
I’m different, not flawed...
just a little bit odd,
and I won’t be involved
in emotional fraud.

Your exuberance is unrelenting,
but I choose to remain authentic;
instead of selling bogus passion,
maybe start working on compassion.

Unbalanced optimism
is your toxic notion,
too spineless to confront
your negative emotions;
it’s such a mindless method
to promote mental health:
if you want to be accepted,
just diminish yourself.

You keep telling me to lighten up
and get a bit more jolly;
I’d rather that you all wake up
and smell the melancholy.
Your vapid vigor is vain
and so viciously vile;
stop poisoning my brain
with your strychnine smiles.

These strychnine smiles...
Whoa oh…
Sick strychnine smiles...
Yeah yeah…
Stop hampering my heart,
stop messing up my mind
with your strychnine smiles...
Oh ooh whoa,
ooh whoa, ooh whoa whoa…

Your moronical expectations
are not my concern;
your emotional machinations
shall be thoroughly spurned.
If the crop doesn’t grow,
fix the soil, not the crop;
I won’t cancel my feelings
just to keep this damn job.

Neurodiversity’s like biodiversity—
it’s very crucial to the human race;
personal growth means facing adversity,
and walking the path at your own pace.

I keep my autonomy,
even in a crowd;
I hear my own melody,
even if you’re loud.
You think that it’s bad
to be angry or sad?
Well, I think it’s quite mad
to be perpetually glad.

That’s why I don’t need
your false reinforcements,
that’s why I don’t want
your spurious endorsements.
Your sunny gaslighting
is a cognitive prison,
and you’re criminalizing
people’s neuroticism.

The reign of positivity
directs the modern hive:
to never speak the truth
of what it's like to be alive.

Your conformity
is the jailer of freedom,
it’s the foe of the strange
and the killer of change.
Your mediocrity
is the bringer of boredom,
it’s the bane of the bright
and the death of delight.

Unbalanced optimism
is your toxic notion,
too spineless to confront
your negative emotions;
it’s such a mindless method
to promote mental health:
if you want to be accepted,
just diminish yourself.

You keep telling me to lighten up
and get a bit more jolly;
I’d rather that you all wake up
and smell the melancholy.
Your vapid vigor is vain
and so viciously vile;
stop poisoning my brain
with your strychnine smiles.

These strychnine smiles...
Whoa oh…
Sick strychnine smiles...
Yeah yeah…
Stop smothering my soul,
stop sullying my sight
with your strychnine smiles...
Oh ooh whoa,
ooh whoa, ooh whoa whoa…

Anger is vastly superior to shame;
sadness is so much better than guilt.
Tension is healthier than self-blame;
these are the things from which we are built.

You can't have hope without despair;
you can’t have grit without some wear.
You can’t have happiness without pain;
you can’t fake life and still be sane.

Strychnine Smiles

I am a graphic designer by trade
and a musician at heart.
All original lyrics and music concepts
were written and designed by me.
The production of the music
was realized using the Suno AI platform.
As a premium subscriber,
I retain all commercial and
intellectual rights to this work.