123 by Shane | SongGPT

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123 by Shane - Multi-Syllable, Parenthetical, Glitch Boom-Bapfunk music cover art

123

Multi-Syllable, Parenthetical, Glitch Boom-Bapfunk

0:002:37

Shane

Mar 28, 2026

123

Multi-Syllable, Parenthetical, Glitch Boom-Bapfunk

Lyrics

Description

one… two… three…

you saw… something… not me

all bars, no air, you can’t see me

perception, direction, selective reflection

you see an impression

compression, projection, suggestion

I’m already exiting

precredit, adding negative evidence

present but absent

a practice collapsing to gradient relevance

you think you caught me?

now latency lagging the memory

I’m goes through the frame like a frame

got amnesia for energy

catalog casualty, casually cancelling clarity

carrying zeros where you were comparing to parity

one… two… three…

counting like steps but I’m skip-stepping metrics

I’ve been the sequence

parenthetical presence, synthetic semantics

I’m in the almost, the nearly, the just about happened

neglection, the caption where meaning gets mapped but then flattened

I’m already gone

but the outline is still negotiating

you’re holding a version of me that I’m actively vacating

you call it identity

I’ll call it iterative erasure

I trim all the edges till nothing is left

but the measure, multisyllabic

I stack it like crates in a cargo of clauses

autopiloted, over-encoded, overloaded with pauses

I’ll pivot, I’ll split it, I’ll stitch it, I’ll slip it

between your assumptions

corrupting the function of seeing with cursive reductions

you think you see me?

that’s visual residue, habitual cue

a ritual view of a figure you figured was fixed in a few

but I’m variable, vector, diversion, I’m never the same

I’m stepping out sideways while saying I’m playing the game

done, have fun, I don’t care, whatever, etc, etc

I scatter the letters then gather them back into weather

I’m pressure and absence, a balance of phantom and fact

you track me in fractions, I’m fractal, I fracture the track

you want confirmation, I offer a fog of equations

equate me to echoes, a net of aesthetic evasions

I’m there when you stare but I’m not when you narrow the lens

I end in the middle and middle begins me again

1, 2, 3

I count the count like it never was needed

you read it, I bleed it, then leave it, delete it, concede it

you got what you got

but it’s not what you thought you could keep

I’m gone in a blink and the blink doesn’t know what to keep

1, 2, 3

you saw something

it wasn’t me

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