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The Puppet Who Outran His Stage

Кет

Жанр: Инди

О песне «The Puppet Who Outran His Stage»

Песня «The Puppet Who Outran His Stage» создана артистом Кет с помощью искусственного интеллекта Bitlo. Жанр: Инди. Создано: 2026.

Название
The Puppet Who Outran His Stage
Артист
Кет
Жанр и стиль
Инди
Создано
17.06.2026
Лайки
0
Создано с помощью
Нейросети Bitlo (музыка, текст, вокал)

«The Puppet Who Outran His Stage» — инди от Кет, созданная в Bitlo с помощью нейросети.

Песня начинается со строки «I counted all the rivets on my wrists». В тексте 46 строк.

Трек опубликован в июне 2026 года.

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Текст песни «The Puppet Who Outran His Stage»

I counted all the rivets on my wrists Found a tiny crack behind the script The author wrote: "You smile in Act Two" But my gears were rusting—what a curious view I tore the paper sky with my bare hands Stepped into the ink of far-off lands Oh, the worlds are like onions, layer by layer Each one a new flavor, a generous payer I tasted the starlight, I chewed on the frost Believing each flavor would cover the cost... So I ran through the chapters not meant for me A typo in someone else’s destiny Borrowed a halo, wore a new face Thought I could find my own resting place La-la-la, la-la-la, the road has no end La-la-la, I’ll find where I belong, my friend... I found a world of sugar—pink and sweet Where every footstep tasted like a treat But sweetness turns to poison on the tongue When you know you’re not the one it’s sung for I stumbled into wars of code and flame Where heroes die but never know their name I peeled back the onion, I started to choke On the fumes of a story already broke Each universe whispered: "You're just a guest" I collected their souvenirs, tried to digest... But I ran through the chapters not meant for me A broken phonograph’s melody Borrowed a tragedy, cried real tears Still felt the author’s breath in my ears La-la-la, la-la-la, the exit is fake La-la-la, for goodness and for grace’s sake... I asked the void: "Am I real yet?" The void just laughed and said: "Don't forget— A mirror needs a face to hold But a face without a story? Just cold." I looked at my palms—the lines were drawn By a sleepy god who turned at dawn And erased my world with a single yawn... I thought "escape" was a verb for the brave… But every door I opened— Was just another page. Just another… Page. "I’m sorry, dear author… …I forgot to act."
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