Lyrics
Ideas, when examined carefully, appear to behave less like possessions and more like processes. Memes are the genes of our dreams. This is not metaphor — this is function. They replicate through imitation, persist through repetition, and decay through neglect. A phrase, a gesture, a soundbite, transmitted without consent yet with permission. Order precedes excess. Once language learned to travel faster than bodies Thoughts stopped asking for borders or copies Now ideas jump hosts with a laugh or a look Low effort, high yield — evolutionary hook You don’t own a meme, you rehearse it aloud You don’t spread it alone, you’re allowed by the crowd Feedback loops tighten, the tempo gets brave Compression of meaning turns thought into wave Irony mutates it, parody feeds it The less that it means, the more minds it reaches Syllables shorten, the timing bends We’re approaching the point where the pattern defends Shorter phrases faster echoes nested references meta on meta on meta The beat is learning. Replication variation selection repeat Catchy survives, everything else retreats Signal gets noisier, context gets thin But the fit idea always finds skin Inside jokes collapse into culture-wide ticks Worldviews compressed into ten-second clips Speed over truth, familiarity wins Memory traded for dopamine hits Jokes making jokes making jokes about jokes Until language forgets what it ever invoked Still it spreads, still it sticks, still it goes Memes aren’t alive — but they act like they know If culture breathes, this is the sound of it hyperventilating.