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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “The Lizard Who Wrote the News”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
The headlines flash, the anchors grin, but no one's sure what’s real within. A thousand words, a thousand views— all written by a lizard in a tailored suit. The papers say the sky’s on fire, the oceans whisper in their sleep. The moon is stealing children’s thoughts, the statues weep, the buildings scream. They tell us it’s the latest truth, confirmed, reported, signed, and sealed. But when I asked just who declared— the lizard smiled, the file disappeared. Did I read too much? Did I blink too slow? Did the facts dissolve? Do I even know? They say the sun is made of cheese! The rivers dance, the clocks can bleed! They write the words, we drink them down— so tell me now, who wears the crown? The lizard winks, adjusts his tie, a stack of headlines held up high. "The market’s up, the stars are gone, a whisper war is going on." I point and ask, “But who decides?” His tongue flicks out, his pupils wide. "The ones who blink, the ones who buy, the ones who never ask us why." We print the past, we bend the now, we shift the words and teach you how. We build the script, we cast the play— you read the lines and walk away. They say the sun is made of cheese! The rivers dance, the clocks can bleed! They write the words, we drink them down— so tell me now, who wears the crown? "Breaking news… we own the truth."
Instructional lyrics
[Intro: A radio crackles to life—garbled headlines overlapping, glitching. A sleek, jazzy bassline slithers in, teasing like a late-night informercial.] [Verse 1: The groove settles—bouncy bass, guitars flickering like TV static, the melody jittery but deliberate.] The headlines flash, the anchors grin, but no one's sure what’s real within. A thousand words, a thousand views— all written by a lizard in a tailored suit. The papers say the sky’s on fire, the oceans whisper in their sleep. The moon is stealing children’s thoughts, the statues weep, the buildings scream. They tell us it’s the latest truth, confirmed, reported, signed, and sealed. But when I asked just who declared— the lizard smiled, the file disappeared. [Pre-Chorus: The tempo skips slightly, voices murmuring behind the main vocal like overlapping news reports.] Did I read too much? Did I blink too slow? Did the facts dissolve? Do I even know? [Chorus: Big, bombastic, almost comedic—harmonies swell like a breaking-news jingle.] They say the sun is made of cheese! The rivers dance, the clocks can bleed! They write the words, we drink them down— so tell me now, who wears the crown? [Instrumental Break: A manic collage of sound—news clips chopped and distorted, horns blaring, a typewriter clicking furiously.] [Verse 2: The groove returns, but reality is slipping—extra percussion rattles like typing fingers, synths flicker in and out.] The lizard winks, adjusts his tie, a stack of headlines held up high. "The market’s up, the stars are gone, a whisper war is going on." I point and ask, “But who decides?” His tongue flicks out, his pupils wide. "The ones who blink, the ones who buy, the ones who never ask us why." [Bridge: The rhythm slows—just pulsing bass and eerie, detuned trumpets. The vocals turn into a creeping chant.] We print the past, we bend the now, we shift the words and teach you how. We build the script, we cast the play— you read the lines and walk away. [Final Chorus: Chaotic, layered, the melody spiraling upward, instruments glitching and warping.] They say the sun is made of cheese! The rivers dance, the clocks can bleed! They write the words, we drink them down— so tell me now, who wears the crown? [Outro: The music cuts out suddenly. Silence. Then, a slow page turn. A soft, reptilian whisper:] "Breaking news… we own the truth."
Song info
Indie art-rock w/ playful yet eerie vibes. Offbeat groove, surreal spoken-word moments, bouncy bass, warped synths, theatrical harmonies. Psychedelic yet absurd, like a dream unraveling.
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