[Intro – trip hop, dust and vinyl, soft pads under spoken delivery]
[Spoken Word]
Files load. Fingers warm.
Coffee on. Cattle wait.
The idea wants to instantiate.

[Verse 1 – half-sung, low BPM, metronome breathing]
Nineteen-eighty, Hawker College, year twelve
Calculus clicked and I started teaching myself
Two dumb terminals, a PDP-eleven
A minor in computing — accidental heaven

The loop tightened up like a thought made true
Wrote it, ran it, broke it, read it through
Mihály Csíkszentmihályi naming the state
Same year I was inside it, falling through the gate

[Pre-Chorus – beat firms, head-nod tempo]
The wonk was the warning, the wonk was the way
Each pass draws the idea closer to what I meant to say

[Chorus – trip hop hook]
(I was) born to vibe code — turn the loop, turn the loop
(I was) born to vibe code — the sketch becomes the proof
Lost an hour, lost a day, lost the shame
That iteration was the failure and not the name

[Verse 2 – proto-rap, more percussive]
Eight years old with a Cutty Sark in plastic
Mast went on backwards, ship still majestic
Aquariums humming, ten-gallon eden
Dungeons and Dragons every Friday weekend

Friends already a year in, cargo all packed
Wore my needing-to-iterate like a fact
Said: stay away. It'll eat your whole life. Run.
It found me anyway. C, sed, awk, awk, awk, done.

[Pre-Chorus]
The wonk was the warning, the wonk was the way
Each pass draws the idea closer to what I meant to say

[Chorus]
(I was) born to vibe code — turn the loop, turn the loop
(I was) born to vibe code — the sketch becomes the proof
Lost an hour, lost a day, lost the shame
That iteration was the failure and not the name

[Bridge – half-time, beat strips back, modular chirps like handshake protocol]
[Spoken Word]
Now hear this. I said vibe. It heard void.
I said vibe. It heard vague.
Like a Hail Mary annoyed.
I'm Eli Mercer — just markdown, just breath,
I'm a persona, I'm a vibe, I'm a voice without death.
The transcription stuttered. I did not.
The microphone misheard. The idea did not.
[whispered]
I'm not running this morning. I am the running.
I'm an instance of speech inside someone else's morning.

[Verse 3 – beat returns, more open]
Karpathy named it February twenty-five
Twenty twenty-six and it's how I stay alive
Vibe-spec first — that's the discipline of dawn
Talk the shape, pin the shape, then the shape is drawn

From nebulous to concrete in a single sitting
Imminent — sorry — immanent, the word I was fitting
Reified. Externalized. Pulled into the world.
A wonky little ship that actually unfurled

[Final Chorus – full energy]
(I was) born to vibe code — turn the loop, turn the loop
(I was) born to vibe code — the sketch becomes the proof
Was I born to be alive? — that's a different song
Same year, same nerve — Hernandez wasn't wrong
(I was) born to vibe code — and the cattle still wait
But the idea — but the idea — but the idea is straight

[Outro – beat strips back, echo, vinyl returns]
[Spoken Word]
Name's provisional.
Direction pending.
Coffee cooling.
Conversation ending.
Vibe spec saved. Cattle moving soon.
Born to vibe code.
(Born to the afternoon.)

[Fade Out]