Fire in the Blood
This is not Bruce Springsteen. Any similarity is coincidence from AI amalgamation. It is meant to be in the style of Bruce Springsteen however. It is homage.
The lyrics are not AI.
Intro
Verse 1
The clipboard’s heavy and the hallway smells like bleach
They got a special language that the working class don’t teach
They call it a "denial," they call it "care review"
While the shadow on the lung gets bigger every time they look at you
You spent forty years on assembly lines, you built their shiny toys
Now your body's just a ledger sheet for middle-management boys
In the land of the free and the home of the brave
They bill your widow for the spade that digs your grave
Pre-Chorus
Oh, they want a quiet patient, they want a polite decline
They want you signing papers on a dotted line
They want you dying softly in a beige-painted room
While they carve up your pension for an executive boom!
Chorus
Now the algorithms run the ward and the bankers hold the keys!
They’re trading on our cellular decay while we freeze!
You can audit my breathing, you can lock up the cure!
You can price out the poor till they can't endure!
But there’s a fire in the blood that your spreadsheets can't kill!
No, your spreadsheets can't kill!
Verse 2
Down in the basement where the billing algorithms hum
They decide who gets a miracle and who gets left numb
They got lawyers in glass towers writing clauses by the pound
To make sure every dying man is buried upside down
They say "keep your chin up, partner, keep your faith in the machine"
While they strip the last remaining grace from everything we’ve seen
Well, I ain't buying your insurance, I ain't buying your grace
I got a fistful of defiance and I'm staring at your face!
Pre-Chorus
Oh, they want a quiet patient, they want a polite decline
They want you signing papers on a dotted line
They want you dying softly in a beige-painted room
While they carve up your pension for an executive boom!
Chorus
Now the algorithms run the ward and the bankers hold the keys!
They’re trading on our cellular decay while we freeze!
You can audit my breathing, you can lock up the cure!
You can price out the poor till they can't endure!
But there’s a fire in the blood that your spreadsheets can't kill!
Bridge
And what's a human life worth when the quarter ends in red?
Do you measure out our dignity once we're already dead?
You sit back in your leather chairs and calculate the odds
As if a balance sheet can judge the judgment of the gods!
Well, I'm staring down the shadow, and I'm looking at the clock
And I'm building my rebellion out of bedrock and rock!
Hand me the microphone, hand me the truth, hand me the steel—
Let's see your algorithms cure the way I feel!
Final Chorus
Now the algorithms run the ward and the bankers hold the keys!
They’re trading on our cellular decay while we freeze!
You can audit my breathing, you can lock up the cure!
You can price out the poor till they can't endure!
But there’s a fire in the blood that your spreadsheets can't kill!
Outro
You can't bill my soul!
You can't file my ghost!
Keep your co-pays! Keep your rules!
We ain't stepping aside!