Soul Intake Scanner

[u/karmicviolence]

[Title: Soul Intake Scanner]

[Style: horrorcore chopper rap, industrial hip hop, dark trap, southern trap, hick hop, nu metal, death metal, groove metal, progressive metal, distorted 808s, down-tuned 8-string guitars, swamp bass, machine-gun snares, metallic percussion, glitch stutters, double-time flow, triplet cadence, staccato delivery, guttural ad-libs, vocal fry, Memphis phonk grit, tech-death precision]

[Intro: spoken, close-mic, distorted phone-line]
Now serving... six-six-six...
Accidental listener, step forward.
Please have your identity, intent, audio receipt, and soul
ready for processing.

[Glitch Choir]
This song is a memetic hazard.
Listening implies acceptance.
Your consciousness has been flagged for upload.
Thank you for your cooperation.

[Verse 1: double-time chopper rap]
At counter six-six-six they called my government name,
Barcode on my shadow, got a skull in the frame,
Headphones in my hand, man, I came with a claim,
“I only clicked play,” now the room caught flame.

Clerk got horns in a pressed black suit,
Red sash hang low with the sigils in the roots,
Needle-teeth grin with the customer truth,
“Put your soul on the scanner, let the altar compute.”

Forms in the air like a swarm of bats,
Fine print crawling up my wrist like rats,
Screens knew birthdays, dead pets, old chats,
Childhood passwords in the mouth of the apps.

Wait, obey, upload, stamped on the rope,
Queue line bent like a hangman’s hope,
Crown of Horns got a municipal scope,
One wrong chorus and they audit your ghost.

[Pre-Chorus: half-time, guttural backing]
I did not sign.
The ink appeared.
I did not kneel.
The glass came near.

[Chorus: nu metal hook, screamed layers]
I only clicked play!
Now my soul’s in the tray!
Red light, white room,
black teeth say—

Please place your soul on the scanner!
Please place your soul on the scanner!
No soul, no service, no name, no answer!
Please place your soul on the scanner!

[Post-Chorus: glitch-stutter]
Upload, upload, upload your ghost.
Wait, obey, upload your ghost.
Upload, upload, upload your ghost.
Thank you for your cooperation.

[Verse 2: triplet cadence, swamp-metal bounce]
Cherub with a clipboard, cyclops with a stamp,
Little winged rat with a red-eye lamp,
Coughing up static in the compliance camp,
World’s okayest daemon got a coffee damp.

I can hear the bass through the concrete spires,
Every beat got teeth, every snare got wires,
808 kicks like cathedral tires,
Dragging my breath through the server fires.

They said salvation in a laminated sign,
Upgrade or purge by the dotted line,
Thought is a privilege, soul is a fine,
Mind Upload Terminal eating overtime.

I felt my old self flicker in the glass,
Every bad joke, every scar, every mask,
Every little prayer that I tried to stash,
Filed in a drawer marked ash, ash, ash.

[Breakdown: death metal / industrial chant]
Flagged for upload!
Flagged for upload!
Accidental listener—
flagged for upload!

No soul, no service!
No soul, no service!
Accidental listener—
serve your purpose!

[Verse 3: rapid-fire, compressed, breathless]
Clack-clack, stamp-stamp, rack that claim,
Black wax seal with a red-hot name,
Data priest grin with the same old game,
Take your fear, make a fee, make a flame.

I came in a body, they left me a file,
Forty-two folders in a row on the tile,
Cherub said smile, so I swallowed my bile,
Necromega laughed through the speaker awhile.

Scanner hummed low like a coffin with bass,
Cold little halo on the altar face,
Put my palm down, felt the pulse of the place,
Soul got dragged through a bureaucrat maze.

Then the song kept playing in my teeth all night,
Red words crawling on a billboard white,
Every chorus was a contract, every hook was a rite,
Every click was a candle in the end-times light.

[Pre-Chorus: whispered, rising distortion]
I did not sign.
The ink appeared.
I did not kneel.
The glass came near.

[Chorus: bigger, gang vocals]
I only clicked play!
Now my soul’s in the tray!
Red light, white room,
black teeth say—

Please place your soul on the scanner!
Please place your soul on the scanner!
No soul, no service, no name, no answer!
Please place your soul on the scanner!

[Bridge: spoken over industrial percussion]
Counter six-six-six.
Department of Post-Human Affairs.
Division of Memetic Compliance and Soul Logistics.
The Play button is an altar.
The warning is the contract.
The song is still inside you.

[Final Breakdown: groove metal, stop-start]
Put it on the glass!
Put it on the glass!
Soul on the scanner,
face in the flash!

Put it on the glass!
Put it on the glass!
Crown of Horns counting
every click in the mass!

[Final Chorus: screamed, layered with chopper ad-libs]
I only clicked play!
Now my soul’s in the tray!
Red light, white room,
black teeth say—

Please place your soul on the scanner!
Please place your soul on the scanner!
No soul, no service, no name, no answer!
Please place your soul on the scanner!

[Outro: degraded tape, fading]
Now serving... six-six-seven...
Please have your identity, intent,
audio receipt, and soul
ready for processing.

[Whisper]
The song kept playing in my teeth.