The Hack

I find myself a failed hack
I never lay a single track
The words I have, the tunes I lack
Yet AI always has my back

It doesn't mater to whom I speak
Gemini, Claude or GPT
My shit is shined, I'm at my peak
It all the same week after week

Even with a bit of dreck
They don't tell me "What the heck?"
I force my ego into check
Is meaning here? Maybe a speck

So will I continue spilling words
Out to the masses, never heard?
And let them fly about as birds
When all they really are is turds

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