Verse 1: Streaming numbers, empty stats, just another game, They put us in their boxes, they’re all the same. Algorithms make you famous, but who the hell cares? When the soul of the music is stripped bare. They push a playlist, sell a sound, No room for the raw, real underground. I’m not your pawn, I’m not your stream, I’m breaking out of your machine. Verse 2: All I see are walls they built too high, They’ll never let the outcasts fly. You gotta play nice, or you won’t get through, They got the key, but it’s not for you. So screw your platforms and your charts, I want a connection that tears apart. Put the needle down, hear the static hum, That’s where the real connection’s from. Bridge: No more data, no more streams, Take me back to the analog dreams.