[Intro sparse synth pulse, bass enters alone] Five thousand. That's pretty good, right? [small laugh] Yeah. That's pretty good. [Verse 1] Five thousand names in a little white box Half of them sleeping, some of them bots Some followed once for a follow-back Some disappeared and never came back The number goes up while the room goes dim New coat of paint on a sinking ship Everybody's selling everybody the dream Nobody listens, everybody streams [Pre-Chorus] I used to hate the numbers Then I watched mine climb Funny how a principle Gets flexible with time And I know what this is I know what it means Still [Chorus] Five thousand ghosts in the audience Five thousand hands that don't make a sound Some were never real Some were real and got out But a few of you stayed God knows why Still making strange little things While the platform eats itself alive So here's to five thousand Whatever that means To the dead and the bots And the ones still haunting me [Post-Chorus] Oh-oh, keep the counter running Oh-oh, say that something's coming Oh-oh, five thousand ghosts And maybe twenty people I actually know [Verse 2] They changed the doors, they changed the floor Changed what gets seen and what gets ignored Yesterday's trick is tomorrow's crime Feed the machine at the optimal time Everybody's networking, nobody's friends "Love this!" "Amazing!" copy, paste, send A heart for a heart, a lie for a lie Beautiful corpses boosting engagement tonight And somewhere buried under all of the noise Somebody makes something because they had no choice No campaign, no angle, no growth to pursue Just something fucked-up and honest and new I still find you. Sometimes. [Pre-Chorus] That's probably the problem That's probably why I stay Every time I call it over Someone makes my fucking day One song in the landfill One voice through the feed And suddenly [Chorus] Five thousand ghosts in the audience Five thousand names I could never defend Some were never listening Some aren't here anymore to pretend But a few of you stayed God knows why Still making strange little things While the platform eats itself alive So here's to five thousand A monument of steam To the dead and the bots And the stubborn little human beings [Instrumental pulsing synth / angular guitar break] [Bridge bass and drums, vocal nearly spoken] At one hundred I said none of you were real At one thousand I wondered why I cared At five thousand [pause] I think I finally get it. The number isn't fake. It's just measuring the wrong thing. [Music surges] It counts the abandoned accounts It counts the follow trains It counts the people chasing numbers Who forgot my fucking name It counts friends who quit It counts strangers passing through It counts every empty chair And somehow it also counts you. [Final Chorus] Five thousand ghosts in the audience Turn the dead screen up, let the feedback howl I don't believe in milestones But I made it this far somehow And a few of you stayed You beautiful fools Still throwing sparks at the algorithm Like that's something humans do So fuck it five thousand Put the number on the wall Not because five thousand love me Not because they even saw But scattered through the graveyard Past the metrics and the schemes There are people I would miss If they disappeared from the feed [Outro instrumentation gradually strips away] Five thousand ghosts... Four thousand bots... Nine hundred dead accounts... Ninety clout chasers... [pause] And ten of you are cool as fuck. [guitar feedback] I'll take it.
