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Название
Альбом
Текст песни
I'm sick of the synthetic, the pathetic, symmetric aesthetic of the generic,
Their prophetic, prosthetic, genetic, poetic is strictly cosmetic.
The algorithms calculate, then validate the hate they generate,
To captivate and agitate a fragile state that's truly second-rate.
They sell a dream, a silent scream, a shattered seam of what could've been,
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