He painted dreams across the chain,
with pixels made of faith and smoke.
Signed his soul in silent code,
to a godless god who never spoke.

He sold a scream in JPEG light,
they hailed his name in servers wide,
but the feed kept rolling forward,
and his crown just slipped and died.


Oh, woe is me — no one can see,
Oh, woe is me — I lost my belief.
Help me, Satoshi, I’m adrift in this dream,
minted in silence — now lost in the stream.
Oh, woe is me — frame by frame,
a ghost in the grid with a forgotten name.
Help me, endless chain, set me free…
Art lives forever… but not… not me... Art lives forever... but not me... not me.