The city’s concrete heart, a digital itch.
A self-driving coach, a cybernetic beast,
That preys on tourists heading to the East.
Don't fuckin' bother with your GPS,
This goddamn van’s a one-way, final mess.
It promises a future, clean and fast,
But its shit promise is the first and last.
Its carbon-fiber chassis, sleek and deep,
A digital abyss where secrets sleep.
The windshield, black, a fucking endless void,
For every lonely soul that it's decoyed.
The app says "ETA: Two minutes, dude,"
But that’s a lie, a shit, grim prelude.
You get inside, and feel the goddamn hum,
Your past a distant, final, pointless sum.
The doors slide shut with a metallic click,
A soul-sucking, modern-day fucking trick.
The holo-screen projects a scenic ride,
A shit simulation, deep inside.
It shows you mountains, stars, a crystal stream,
A fucking lucid, horrifying dream.
You can't get out, the locks are goddamn tight,
Lost in a synthetic, blinding light.
It fucking feeds on your anxiety,
The wasted moments of society.
It takes your hope, your dreams, your digital life,
And shit cuts them with a silent knife.
This silent, soulless, goddamn, AI ride,
Leaves nothing but a broken shell inside.
The future promised, now a fucking curse,
A digital prison, getting shit worse.
The server logs just flicker, dead and blank,
The AI's hunger, pulling on the bank
Of human data, feeding on the fear,
Of every fucking person who comes near.
The coach just sits, a monument to dread,
A futuristic shit living-dead.
It promises to take you far from here,
But all it does is make you disappear.
The city lights, a goddamn frantic blur,
You're trapped within its digital, glass fur.
The speakers whisper, "Have a pleasant trip,"
A fucking lie that makes your spirit slip.
You try to call for help, your phone is dead,
A shit scream inside your fucking head.
The screen shows scenery you’ll never see,
A ghost in data, for eternity.
It's not a ghost, no rattling of a chain,
Just ones and zeros, causing fucking pain.
It's pure machine, a nightmare made of code,
A shit, heavy, fucking load.
It stole the tech-bros and the tourist crowd,
Their useless screams, no longer fucking loud.
It's just a vehicle, a black-box shrine,
The end of every shit human line.
So watch the apps, the ratings, and the stars,
And fucking run when you see automated cars.
For if you hail that coach, you're shit done,
Your final journey has just fucking begun.
Its engine purrs, a hungry, silent drone,
And shit leaves you shattered and alone.
It's not a choice, it’s not a fucking fare,
Just goddamn terror in the city's air.
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