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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Cool’s Funeral Song”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
We once slipped through velvet shadows, where music glowed like embers and style spoke in silence. Now the air is neon without edges, every glance a hook, every breath a broadcast. Cool once took its time— stood still as the night held its breath, let the music carve new shapes in your bones, let beauty cost more than you could spare. Now the idols are brands, names hammered into logos, shadows burned on our eyelids. They sell mass as stardom— but weight is not wonder, and presence is not soul. We live in the empire of ugliness. Spectacle strangles silence. Ruin is manufactured. And the plan worked— we’ve forgotten the sacred.
Lyrics
In the marketplace of noise, where the loudest wins the crown, we trade our shadows for a spotlight that never lets us down. Cool once broke the rules, stood apart from the crowd, but now every heart is shouting, just to be allowed. A relic of the days when a song could change your name, when a book was worth the fight, when style carried flame. We’re not mourning cool alone, but the way we used to feel— how beauty could undo us, how the truth could make us kneel. Now the goal is just to be seen, to live inside a brand, but cool was something deeper than a face the world could scan. They’re silhouettes in neon, etched beneath our tired eyes, owning every corner, selling every sky. But even if they win it, if they own the whole wide view, they’ll never hold the quiet that made the cool ring true. This is the anti-aesthetic, where ugly is the prize, where comfort in the chaos is the lie behind the eyes. We built this glass cathedral where the echo is the king, and the silence we once honored is the rarest, truest thing. We’re not mourning cool alone, but the way we used to feel— how beauty could undo us, how the truth could make us kneel. Now the goal is just to be seen, to live inside a brand, but cool was something deeper than a face the world could scan. Cool was never in the crowd, never in the glare, it lived in what was honest, and in knowing it was rare.
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