Cool’s Funeral Song

[Intro: Soft, atmospheric guitar harmonics, slow tempo—like the memory of a fading photograph.]
In the marketplace of noise,
where the loudest wins the crown,
we trade our shadows for a spotlight
that never lets us down.

[Verse 1: Gentle build—layer in warm bass and minimal percussion.]
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.

[Chorus: Full band swells, open chords—bittersweet but anthemic.]
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.

[Verse 2: Drop dynamics slightly, add echoing guitar lines—introspective tone.]
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.

[Bridge: Darker, more urgent—drums hit harder, guitars swell into distortion.]
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.

[Chorus: Bigger, layered harmonies—emotional climax.]
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.

[Outro: Instruments fade, single guitar arpeggio—final reflection.]
Cool was never in the crowd,
never in the glare,
it lived in what was honest,
and in knowing it was rare.