🎧 [Background: A slow, rhythmic stomp echoes—boots on dry dirt, distant voices chanting in low harmony. The sound of a wooden gate creaking, but it never fully swings open. A banjo strums once, twice—hesitant, waiting. Then, the faint clink of chains… or was it coins?]
🎙️ FrizzleBob (low, measured, like a man who spent too many years picking crops for a master who promised freedom):
"Alright, you tax-paying, ballot-punching, system-sustaining field workers—let’s talk about the plantation that never really closed."
"See, one day, Master Jones stood up, smiled real wide, and said—‘Congratulations! You’re free. No more chains. No more whips. No more overseers… just managers.'"
🎶 [A honky-tonk piano twinkles in, playful but with an edge—like a deal being signed in the back of a dimly lit office.]
"You see, a smart plantation owner don’t need chains. Just fear. Wages. Taxes. Regulations. The illusion of choice. And most of all—the belief that leaving is impossible."
🎷 [A fiddle and slap bass kick in—faster now, like an escape plan forming in real time.]
"The door was never locked. You just stopped looking for it."
🎧 [Beat drops in—fast, swinging, like a jailbreak in progress.]
🔥 "Will you walk through? Or just vote for a kinder master?" 🚀
🎶 [The track ignites. The fields blur. The escape begins.]
Fractal FrizzleLyrics
[Intro – Chain-Gang Call-and-Response]
[workers]
"We work the land, we work it right,
Master’s kind, he treats us nice."
[overseer]
"Keep in line, don’t ask why,
Do your job, you’ll get by."
[male]
FrizzleBob here—former plantation worker, mind-farm escapee.
I worked these fields. I believed in the system.
Then I saw the game.
[Verse 1 – The Great Announcement]
[male]
We rose at dawn, sweat hit the dirt,
Worked till the bones in my hands would hurt.
Master Jones, kind as could be,
Said freedom was coming—just wait and see.
[female]
And then?
[male]
One morning he stood, cane in hand,
Gathered the workers, made his stand.
"Slavery’s done! You’re free at last!
No more chains—the past is past!"
[female]
Cheers rang out, hope ran high,
But what did freedom feel like inside?
[workers – background chant]
"Work the land, work it good,
Freedom comes if you do what you should."
[Verse 2 – The Illusion of Choice]
[male]
We still worked, we still stayed,
Still bowed our heads, still obeyed.
But now we had a choice to make—
Who should lead? Who should dictate?
[female]
A vote, a voice—freedom’s hand?
Or just another overseer’s plan?
[male]
Two men stood, firm and proud,
Both once overseers, speaking loud.
They shook our hands, they smiled wide,
"Vote for me—I’m on your side!"
[male]
Master Jones laughed, nodded slow,
Watched his plantation continue to grow.
No whips, no chains, no more fights,
Just taxes, wages, and worker rights.
[female]
So why did it feel the same?
[male]
I looked around, I saw the way,
The work remained, just different pay.
I asked to leave, they shook their heads,
"Why leave now? You’ll end up dead!"
[workers – background chant]
"Here you eat, here you stay,
Outside those gates, you waste away."
[Verse 3 – The Overseer’s Trick]
[male]
"Here, you’re safe, here you eat,
Outside the gate, you face defeat!"
They told me stories, filled me with fear,
Of dangers lurking beyond the sphere.
[female]
So what did you do?
[male]
I thought, I stared, I took my time,
Saw the fence, saw the signs.
The door was open, never locked,
But fear had kept my mind in shock.
[female]
So what’s the truth?
[male]
They tricked us once, they’ll trick you twice,
A cage with walls you can’t see with your eyes.
I walked away, left them behind,
No more masters, no more lies.
[workers – background chant fades]
"Work the land, work it good…
But freedom comes when you do what you could…"
[Outro]
[male]
Freedom was never given.
It’s only ever taken.
The door was open all along.
[female]
Will you walk through?
Or just keep voting for a kinder master?
[workers – distant echo, layered]
"Work the land, work it good…
Freedom comes when you do what you could…"
[male]
Freedom was never given.
It’s only ever taken.
[Pause – a moment of silence]
[male]
Keep reading.
Keep questioning.
Find the open door.
FrizzleBob out.
[Saxophone Solo - fading]
[Final faint worker chant]
"Work the land… work it good…"
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