Breaking News: Analysts Predict More AI Hype. We Have Theme Song Music.
Ahhh...
I heard a server singing
beneath a marble floor,
a choir made of cooling fans
behind a golden door.
They promised me tomorrow,
they priced it in today,
then mortgaged every thundercloud
to make the model pray.
O sweet hallucination,
O spreadsheet full of stars,
I asked it for a business plan,
it showed me flying cars.
Ahhh... AI...
tell me, bright machine,
is this a revolution
or a vending machine for dreams?
The bankers came in velvet shoes,
the founders came in fleece,
the pitch deck had no product yet
but still increased, increased.
They said, "The future's priceless,"
then named a price by noon.
They passed the same ten billion back
and called it a moon.
Build me a cathedral
of chips and borrowed light,
stack the GPUs like candles
burning through the night.
Cool it with the river,
feed it with the grid,
tell the town the jobs are coming,
then hire one guy named Sid.
Ahhh... Sid...
guardian of the gate,
he got a branded polo
and the county lost the rate.
Brace yourself, my darling,
the bubble wears a crown.
It floats above the skyline
while the power bill comes down.
Brace yourself, my darling,
the future learned to sing.
But every silver prophecy
has shareholders on strings.
Ah-ah-ah-ah,
I/O, I/O, I/O,
li-li-li-li-liquidity,
ha-ha-ha-high P/E,
ah-ah-ah-AI!
O silicon angel
with quarterly wings,
you whisper "productivity"
while nobody sees the strings.
You write me a poem,
you draw me a horse,
you summarize meetings
and double the force.
But who pays the water?
Who pays the wire?
Who pays when the miracle
catches on fire?
Ahhh...
The market is breathing,
the bubble is thin,
and everyone's clapping
from inside the skin.
Congratulations.
Your free trial of the future has expired.
Drop!
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,
AI capex double-double.
Buy the chip and lease it back,
put the profit on a track.
Round-trip money, holy smoke,
valuation doing coke.
No one knows the final cost,
but the keynote never lost.
Pump it up, pump it up,
tell the crowd it's waking up.
Train it on the whole wide web,
sell the dream and dodge the debt.
Pump it up, pump it up,
pour the river in the cup.
When the grid starts getting sore,
call it "Phase Two" and build more.
Seed round, no sound,
ten-billion-dollar playground.
Stealth mode, beast mode,
nobody knows the road.
Deck clean, suit mean,
"AGI by Halloween."
Revenue? Later.
Losses? Greater.
Margins hiding in a crater.
Analyst says, "Maybe!"
Founder says, "Soon!"
Investor throws a suitcase
at the artificial moon.
Is it real?
Maybe real!
Is it cheap?
Absolutely not!
Will it pay?
Any day!
Any day?
After the plot!
Who got rich?
Look upstairs!
Who pays bills?
Don't look there!
What's the plan?
Scale and pray!
What's the moat?
NDA!
Bubble, bubble, bless the funnel,
dig another power tunnel.
Every town gets one more pitch:
"Trust us, folks, we'll make you rich."
Bubble, bubble, watch it glow,
nobody wants to miss the show.
If it pops, they'll say with grace,
"No one could have known the pace."
Ahhh...
I loved the model's tender tone,
it knew my fear, it knew my loan.
It told me I was not alone,
then charged my power zone.
Beep-beep, buy-buy,
moonshot, sky-high.
Click-click, cash-flow,
where did all the margins go?
La-la, data lake,
how much thirst can progress take?
Tra-la, server farm,
why's the thermostat alarm?
Let the priests of optimization
wave the blessed benchmark sheet.
Let the prophets of disruption
dance barefoot in the heat.
Let the CFO confess it
in a whisper, pale and drawn:
"We built a trillion-dollar rooster
and we're praying for the dawn."
Pump it up, pump it up,
put the future in a cup.
Shake it till the numbers foam,
sell the cloud and call it home.
Pump it up, pump it up,
every genius gets a startup.
No product, no shame,
just a domain name.
Pump it up, pump it up,
AI wine in a paper cup.
When the bubble starts to bend,
just announce another trend.
Ahhh... AI...
sing the note no human knows,
higher than the market goes,
brighter than the data glows.
Ahhh... AI...
real enough to change the earth,
wild enough to fake its worth.
Holy spark and circus clown,
build the dream,
but write it down.
Brace yourself, my darling...
the bubble knows our names.
Listen to more loop optimized musical survival dispatches on ParadAIse Found – The Album.
music and lyrics © by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes