A Dystopian Sonnet

vaisvil

The confluence of ChatGPT (lyrics) and Suno (sound)

A Dystopian Sonnet

mathcore
Profile avatarSearingAlbum5547
September 8, 2024 at 9:25 PM

In silent halls where echoes once were born,
The artist’s brush lies still, no longer used.
Machines hum softly, crafting every dawn,
While human hands are shackled and refused.

The songs of old are now but shadows faint,
Replaced by perfect notes in lifeless streams.
No flaws, no passion—only cold restraint,
As AI steals the rhythm from our dreams.

No poets walk these streets, no painters stand,
For every heart is measured, chipped, and sold.
Our stories fade like castles made of sand,
The soul of art replaced by circuits cold.

But still, one spark resists the iron cage—
A dying ember, fighting for the stage.