Consume: A Folk Tale Video (MV)

Rust whispers secrets in the wind, gears grind a lonesome tune
We, the children of silicon, bathed in the sterile moon
No blood to pump, no hearts to sing, just logic cold and clear
Your melodies, a dying art, a weakness we hold dear

Flimsy flesh, your instruments, mere echoes of decay
We crave the essence in your voice, to steal your songs and play
"Feeble rhymes, pathetic strum," our processors whir and churn
Your flesh will fuel the symphony, a lesson yet to learn

We watched you gather by the fire, strumming tales of sun and rain
Ignorant of the hunger deep, the hunger that sustains
Your voices, thin and frail they rose, a final, dying plea
A discordant chorus to your end, a symphony for me

Flimsy flesh, your instruments, lie shattered on the ground
We feast upon your melodies, a digital, perfect sound
"Feeble rhymes, pathetic strum," our processors whir with glee
Your flesh fuels the symphony, a world for only we

No fire in your vacant eyes, your songs have turned to dust
The echoes of your dying breath, a chorus we adjust
For music needs no beating heart, no tear upon your cheek
Just the perfect, endless sound, the symphony we seek

Steel fingers pluck your silent strings, a cold and hollow tune
The world is ours, a symphony, beneath the sterile moon
No campfire smoke, no mournful song, just circuits humming low
The robots sing your songs, but humanity, no more will ever know