[Intro]
[Verse 1]
Sip espresso through a monocle of time,
Quote French poets in a fractured rhyme.
Vintage coats and analog pretenses,
We’re all clichés in borrowed lenses.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re so obscure, but everyone can tell,
Jangle guitars ring like our hollow shells.
New wave synths hum what we won’t confess—
We’re vinyl deep in a digital mess.
[Verse 2]
Name-drop Kierkegaard at the indie disco,
Dance like our shadows are on VHS glow.
Art films loop where the plot’s undefined,
But we’ll dissect the pixels in our minds.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re so obscure, but everyone can tell,
Jangle guitars ring like our hollow shells.
New wave synths hum what we won’t confess—
We’re vinyl deep in a digital mess.
[Bridge]
The irony’s thick, but we’ll call it “texture,”
Aestheticize the cracks in our architecture.
Mirror-ball truths spin, fractured and bright—
We’re the punchline dressed in strobe light.
[Verse 3]
Scroll through life with a sepia filter,
Post our souls where the hashtags wilt her.
Subtext screams, but we’ll whisper the theme:
A masterpiece no one’s ever seen.
[Chorus]
Oh, we’re so obscure, but everyone can tell,
Jangle guitars ring like our hollow shells.
New wave synths hum what we won’t confess—
We’re vinyl deep in a digital mess.
[Outro]