Id:

1b02078bf2368af800a7289c6f8bc6a044dff53407540fbdc24172f39c1baf2c

Prompt:

Unhinged prenuptial thank-you-core soaked in retrofitted voicemail static, like if a haunted fax machine hosted a potluck with VHS ghosts and everyone brought baked beans. It’s the sonic equivalent of bubble wrap anxiety and taxidermy disco — slap bass filtered through colander logic, with hi-hats made from pigeon regrets. Vocals are shouted by a sentient coupon booklet in a Waffle House bathroom while breakbeats spin like overcaffeinated marsupials. Every snare is a birthday candle you weren’t ready for, and the synths weep like melted butter on broken roller skates. Call it genreless. Call it garage-sale glamcore. It’s the soundtrack to your aunt’s dream about worms in a jazz club — lucid, groovy, yet emotionally fraudulent. No key. No tempo. Just pure, unpasteurized energy harvested from forgotten smart fridges. And yes, there’s cowbell — but only when you lie

Image:

Description:

The image is a colorful and whimsical illustration of a woman walking past a storefront with a sign that reads "Plary." The scene is set in a purple and pink world, giving it a surreal and dreamlike quality. The woman appears to be walking away from the store, possibly after making a purchase. The overall atmosphere of the image is playful and imaginative, capturing the viewer's attention with its vibrant colors and unique visual elements.

Songs:

Lyrics:

Title: Haunted Buffet of Broken Logic
Tags: garage-sale glamcore, glitchy, random, haunted, spoken word, scream

[Intro]
(Muffled tape hiss, microwave hum)
You rang a doorbell made of bees — and I answered in Morse code

[Verse 1]
Fax machine invited ghosts to potluck night
Each one brought regrets and beans in Tupperware fright
Slap bass leaking through a colander of dreams
My taxidermy disco spins on pigeon-wing schemes

[Chorus]
Welcome to the haunted buffet of broken logic
Where the coupons scream and the beats are caustic
Cowbell rings when you tell a lie
And buttered synths melt as the VHS cries

[Break]
(Snare hits like birthday panic)
Tape rewind… static overload

[Verse 2]
Marsupial DJs breakbeat in caffeinated circles
Bathroom acoustics echo life’s weird commercials
Your aunt dreamed worms wore jazz hats tight
They danced on roller skates under freezer-light

[Pre-Chorus]
This isn’t music, it’s a haunted fridge confession
A scream in MIDI form, a glitch-born obsession

[Chorus]
Welcome to the haunted buffet of broken logic
Where the coupons scream and the beats are caustic
Cowbell rings when you tell a lie
And buttered synths melt as the VHS cries

[Bridge]
Colander rhythm, pigeon regrets
Duct-taped dreams in cassette sunsets
Unplugged blender trying to preach
While toaster sermons scream in speech

[Finale]
This ain’t a song — it’s a digital séance
Broadcast live from your grandma’s neon trance

[Outro]
(Static fades, voicemail clicks)
\"You have… no… new… sanity.\"
[End]