Sipping on that media buzz, fizzing all around,

Tasting irony and truth, lost where they’re bound.

Scrolling through the headlines, a parade of the same,

Echoing the empty thoughts, it’s a hollow game.

Shiny on the surface, like a diet soda can,

Fizzing bright with colors, but no substance in the plan.

Cliché currency, raining from the sky,

Dollars made of words, oh, let them fly!

In a bankrupt world, where meaning takes a dive,

We trade in tired phrases, just to feel alive.

Clickbait smiles and stories, that lead us to despair,

Filling up the screens with noise, but no one really cares.

Like bubbles on the surface, they burst before you know,

Leaving us just thirsting for a truth we’ll never sow.

Cliché currency, raining from the sky,

Dollars made of words, oh, let them fly!

In a bankrupt world, where meaning takes a dive,

We trade in tired phrases, just to feel alive.

We're drowning in a sea of tired plots and rhymes,

The same old tales recycled—all dressed in borrowed chimes.

What’s real and what’s illusion, all jumbled in the mix,

With every pop and fizz, I feel the heartstrings twist.

[Solo]

*A playful, jazzy trumpet solo, mimicking a soda pop opening*

They wear the masks of virtue, with puppets on a stage,

Preaching all the wisdom, but they’re just a passing phase.

Fizzling hopes and aspersions, like sugar in a drink,

A lab of contradictions, with barely time to think.

Cliché currency, raining from the sky,

Dollars made of words, oh, let them fly!

In a bankrupt world, where meaning takes a dive,

We trade in tired phrases, just to feel alive.

So pop the can of culture, take a sip or let it fizz,

In a bubble of the ordinary, tell me what this is.

Full of fizz but empty, it’s a common tale we weave,

Caught in cliché currency, it's hard to truly believe.

[Fade-Out]