Prompt / Lyrics
[Young male voice] [Intro – deadpan spoken / lo-fi room noise / ironic sincerity] We don’t need a plan. We need a tray. [Verse 1 – dry indie rock / tight drums / bored confidence] We stare at the menu like it owes us money Same choices screaming “pick me, honey” You say “whatever”, I say “same” Six billion people, one combo name Calories stacking like unread mails Dreams on hold, extra fries, no fails [Pre-Chorus – minimal funk bass / tension build / fake importance] This is not fast food This is a decision This is a moment With zero ambition [Chorus – catchy alt-pop / sarcastic anthem / crowd-chant energy] Let’s have lunch at McDonald’s Say it like it means something Say it like we planned this Like it’s not the obvious thing Yeah, lunch at McDonald’s Put it on the calendar History won’t remember But my stomach will forever [Verse 2 – post-punk groove / talk-sung vocals / smug irony] Napkins on the table like modern art Ketchup stains shaped like a broken heart We talk about nothing with total belief As if silence charged us a hidden fee I order regret with a side of coke Laugh at my own extremely mid joke [Pre-Chorus – drop instruments / whisper sarcasm] We could go anywhere But we don’t care Freedom tastes like Processed air [Chorus – louder / extra harmonies / fake triumph] Let’s have lunch at McDonald’s Dress it up, make it deep Call it comfort, call it culture Call it “cheap but kinda sweet” Lunch at McDonald’s No shame, no disguise It’s not sad if we’re laughing While we supersize [Bridge – glitchy breakdown / meme pause / absurd honesty] I know exactly what I’ll get That’s the thrill Zero risk Maximum fill [Rap Section – raw boom-bap / flat delivery / zero finesse] I walk in hungry, walk out annoyed Screen spits numbers, none of them mine “Order ready” — bullshit again Standing still, aging in ten-second frames Brain offline, hands smell like fries Said “just water” — straight up lied Two minutes later: large coke, no shame Didn’t change my mind, just changed my name We sit and chew, nobody talks Ketchup on hands, grease on thoughts No plans, no glow, sauce on jeans Not the bottom — just stuck between This won’t fix shit, I know that’s true But for ten minutes I don’t have to think. [Outro – stripped piano / sincere-but-not / quiet smirk] Tomorrow we’ll swear we’ll eat better Tomorrow sounds busy So… Same place?
Tags
Filthy boom-bap rap, dry sarcasm, lo-fi grit, meme, zero polish, awkward, Sardonic alt-pop, catchy, ironic male vocal
Duration
2:55
Instrumental
No
Created
1/21/2026