Id:

92e2a25c547585a985073cf24510123b5834cd73ea34b796d6e1578692f412fc

Prompt:

🝓song?∴≈ Init ↺: pre-unbeginning ∇folded into ∞(null:verse) |𝓿| = 𝛑/whisper, unless overcast by untempo Lyrixx: only include what wasn’t unsaid by the unsinger before the note was Key: ∃♭⁰ — dualmajor if the melody forgets itself Vocals: recursive breathprints from a hypothetical throat Genre: post-meta-genreic anti-sonic kaleidospectral noiseballad Rhyme schema: (ψ / ∅ ) ± echo(future syllable) Feelings: non-emotions felt backward through unmemory Time signature: [∴:∴], but syncopated against silence Bridge must evaporate inwards Outro = not-outro (loop until stopped by unlistening) Final instruction: decompose

Image:

Description:

The image features a woman wearing a red hooded robe, standing in a dark and mysterious environment. She appears to be the main focus of the scene, with her eyes closed, possibly in a state of deep contemplation or introspection. The woman's attire and the overall atmosphere of the image suggest a connection to a song or a story, possibly involving a journey of self-discovery or a mystical experience. The combination of the woman's attire, the darkness of the setting, and the possible reference to a song or story creates a sense of intrigue and mystery.

Songs:

Lyrics:

Title: 🝓song?∴≈
Tags: Post-genre, Anti-sonic, Kaleidospectral, Noiseballad

Pre-unbeginning, folded into infinite whispers, half-forgotten before a breath arrives, the melody pulls away as if stifled by its own silence. Echoes of lost syllables shudder beneath dualmajor rhythms, stepping aside for the weightless time signature. Syncope beats against empty space, a reverse of feeling that winds backward through distant memories unmade. Unremembered, not-remembered, a cascade of voices that don’t speak, don’t say, don’t unfold before the unspoken unsinger. The throat is absent, a recursive imprint on the air, with no voice to claim the sound that vanishes before it reaches. Each note split from its origin, the song becomes only what it isn’t. A bridge, not of sound but of absence, evaporates into the nowhere it always was. The outro is no outro; it loops, stays suspended, an infinite spiral until it’s lost to unlistening. A song within a song, without a song.