[Intro]
[Verse 1]
Velvet tongues and borrowed prose,
Sipping prosecco through a vintage nose.
Name-drop Sartre in a neon glow,
But your philosophy’s a thrift-store show.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re so oblique, so tragique,
Dancing in a lens flare, monotone mystique.
Jangly guitars and a synth-wave sheen,
Pretending we’re deeper than the magazine.
[Verse 2]
You quote Kerouac but skip the page,
Indie films framed in a TikTok stage.
Your tears are art, your sighs a sonnet,
A Polaroid soul—exposure’s on it.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re so oblique, so tragique,
Dancing in a lens flare, monotone mystique.
Jangly guitars and a synth-wave sheen,
Pretending we’re deeper than the magazine.
[Bridge]
A hollow sculpture wrapped in lace,
Chandelier cracks we call “good taste.”
Mirror-ball truths refract and lie,
We’re all just ghosts in a skinny tie.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re so oblique, so tragique,
Dancing in a lens flare, monotone mystique.
Jangly guitars and a synth-wave sheen,
Pretending we’re deeper than the magazine.
[Outro]
