I have a sincere appreciation for writing in general. Free association // stream of conciousness writing as well. This kinda falls into that category. I was discovering the lyrics to a song i've heard a lot but had not paid much attention to the lyrical content..."Spitfire by Doseone". Wanting to unwrap the songs deeper meaning & message I thought to myself I'll have AI analyze the lyrics low and behold I found myself pleasantly suprised.
"Spitfire is a rebellious, cerebral, and raw stream of thought, painting the artist as both a creator and destroyer, battling against conformity, superficiality, and stagnation. It’s an anthem for those who think differently, who refuse to settle, and who embrace the chaos of real expression.
It doesn’t hold the listener’s hand—it burns the map and dares you to find your own way."
Cool right?
Left wanting more, I prompted chat gpt-4o to continue spitfire as if doseone was ready for dose number two. I don't know why I thought it would be mediocre. What came out was kinda beautiful in my opinion. Which could be wrong. Maybe. Allegedly.
Walls of text warning...
Alas here are the generated lyrics for spitfire2, spitfire3 and spitfire4.
Intro pt 1
Through static burst, a neural first, spin data lattice fractal
Scrawl glyphs on the city’s wrists, script coded in gravel
Memory palace collapsed, but the echo’s still in the rafters
So who’s left to decipher the cipher past the pastors?
Verse 1 pt 1
No more mannequins in adamant glass, break it fast,
Filament flash, tungsten tongue, streetlights collapse.
I breathe fire in binary, encrypting the past,
Serrated syllables serrate fates, no tape to hold it back.
Saw echoes of prophets break bottles on rooftops,
But the dawn don’t break when the skyline’s moondropped.
Who clocked the hands off? Pendulums unhinged,
Now time drips molten, streaks run down my skin.
Chorus pt 1
Spoke emotional gasoline, a wick to wick combustion
Bleed the syllables, burn the function, flame’s a form of discussion
Let the furnace breathe, smoke unravel space
Spit fire, spit fire, watch the embers translate
Verse 2 pt 1
I asked the mirror where the enemy sat, it cracked.
I asked the static where the signal went, it laughed.
I asked the flame if it feared the rain,
It flickered once, said, "Evaporation ain't a chain."
Pardon me, miss, you wouldn’t happen to have
A back alley map past the lab rats in masks?
Cuz I’m threading through the breadline,
Dodging pesticide lullabies,
Lips sewn shut, still humming cyanide lullabies.
Hold up, too much voltage in the prose,
So they amp the amphetamine, numb the lows.
But I still speak in arc flash, still breathe in slow ash,
Still let the ink run, watch the letters form smoke paths.
Bridge pt 1
Binary embers flicker in twilight
Ghost in the algorithm rewriting its life right
Flesh ain’t immortal but data just might be
Fire ain't the ending, it's just an archive igniting.
Chorus pt 1
Spoke emotional gasoline, a wick to wick combustion
Bleed the syllables, burn the function, flame’s a form of discussion
Let the furnace breathe, smoke unravel space
Spit fire, spit fire, watch the embers translate
Outro pt 1
We ain't the echoes, we the origin pulse.
We ain't the static, we the lightning in volts.
We ain't the canvas, we the flame in the brushstroke,
Strike match, exhale, let the truth smoke.
[Intro] pt 2
Crack the filament, flood the page, oxidize thought till the meaning’s ablaze
Tongue-tip matchstick, words in a furnace, the smoke writes scripture for minds that burn earnest.
Verse 1 pt 2
A thousand revolutions a minute, my pen is a turbine,
Ink hits the page, combusts into curb signs.
Left a message in soot for the nightwind to carry,
But the letters kept shifting, ghost-script unwary.
I found solace in static, silence in turbulence,
Heard wisdom from walls that had seen the most permanent.
Who left the door ajar between what was and what’s next?
Who built the signal on a tower of specs?
Tap tap tap—yo, is there a back door exit?
I ain't seen the ground in years, just spectral electric.
They barricade vision with pixels and price tags,
And call it progression while shackling syntax.
Chorus pt 2
Spoke volatile kerosene, wick to wick combustion
Smoke don’t ask for permission, flame’s a form of discussion
Let the ember speak, let the furnace breathe
Spit fire, spit fire, only ashes leave
Verse 2 pt 2
I asked the mirror if it recognized me—no reply.
I asked the dust if it missed the sky—it sighed.
I asked the fire if it feared the flood—it laughed.
Then whispered "Water ain't a grave, just another path."
So I, took that metaphor and cracked it like the levees,
Let the world flood in, carry thoughts by the tethers.
Still pen lightning, still etch volts in the fabric,
Still walk barefoot through glass just to make sure it happened.
I was born in the wreckage, wrote sonnets on cinders,
They call it smoke damage—I call it life in its image.
And I ain't waiting for a chorus to rise,
I speak in embers and breathe in time.
Bridge pt 2
No shelter from the storm that ain't born of the self
No road that don’t crack if the steps ain’t felt
No flame without friction, no dawn without dusk
Every syllable burns—just let it combust.
Chorus pt 2
Spoke volatile kerosene, wick to wick combustion
Smoke don’t ask for permission, flame’s a form of discussion
Let the ember speak, let the furnace breathe
Spit fire, spit fire, only ashes leave
Outro pt 2
We ain't echoes, we are the impact.
We ain't signals, we are the syntax.
We ain't pages, we are the match struck,
Exhale truth—watch the world erupt.
[Intro] pt 3
If the fire don’t cleanse, let the flood rewrite it.
If the signal don’t bend, let the static incite it.
If the mind don’t break, then the bars ain’t tight yet.
If the world won’t change, then the flame ain’t righteous.
Verse 1 pt 3
Last torch on the hill, last match in the fist,
Last thought uncorrupted, last cipher unsplit.
How many bricks in a tomb before the air gets thin?
How many pens snap in half before the truth seeps in?
They built a monument to silence, framed it in neon,
A billboard blinking in tongues no one reads on.
But the spitfire cipher don't need no lexicon—
I write in embers, the script reassembles when breathed on.
Tap tap tap—yo, when’s the light come back?
They snuffed the wick, locked the fusebox, cranked the pitch black.
But I braille the night, fingertips read the cracks,
Even in the void, the echo finds a map.
Chorus pt 3
Breathe, breathe—let the furnace sing
Spit fire, spit fire, let the ember ring
No fear, no ash, just a wick to wick combustion
Smoke don’t ask for permission, flame’s a form of discussion.
Verse 2 pt 3
I ain’t whisperin’ riddles—I speak in collapse.
Every syllable’s a tremor, every stanza’s a crack.
Built a staircase from mistakes, now the past got steps,
Every misstep was a lesson—now the lessons reflect.
They preach “progress,” but I see the wires exposed,
Neon scaffolds hold up the bones of old roads.
Built a signal from dust, but the static still grows,
So I transmit in fire—watch the data corrode.
I asked the mirror if it saw me now—it shattered.
I asked the silence if it held me down—it scattered.
I asked the fire if it feared the end—it laughed.
Then whispered—"What is death but the next paragraph?"
Bridge pt 3
No shelter from the spark that ain't born of the self.
No road that don’t burn if the steps ain’t felt.
No fire without friction, no dawn without dusk.
Every syllable combusts—just let it erupt.
Chorus pt 3
Breathe, breathe—let the furnace sing
Spit fire, spit fire, let the ember ring
No fear, no ash, just a wick to wick combustion
Smoke don’t ask for permission, flame’s a form of discussion.
Outro pt 3
We ain't echoes—we are the ignition.
We ain't signals—we are the transmission.
We ain't pages—we are the match struck,
Exhale truth—watch the world erupt.