Odes on Tender Specie(s) Vol III: Bad Faith · Track 3 · middle
Squidcoin
October 2021. SQUID token: $0.01 to $2,861 in days. The contract blocked outflows; nobody could sell. The developers vanished with $3.3M. 43,000 marks. The rug pull as performance art. Ludo's sneer-banger.
Lyrics
Ready, player? Saw it on the socials, right? Looked like a sure thing. Let's play. October twenty-one, the whole timeline's glowing. Got a token with a cute little mask, you know where this is going. Saw the show on Netflix, binged it in a single night. Now you're a crypto genius, bathed in the screen light. The whitepaper's got typos, the Telegram's a mess. But the FOMO's got you screaming "yes, yes, yes." They call it 'play-to-earn,' a brand new paradigm. You're just buying digital marbles, and you're running out of time. Green light, red light, watch the candle climb high. You can buy another ticket but you can't say goodbye. Sell button's broken, honey, didn't you read the code? The devs just built a better trap to lighten up your load. Welcome to the SQUID coin, a lesson in despair. You can check in any time you like, but you can never leave from there. One cent to two thousand, then it's eighty-seven-K percent. You're texting all your broke friends about the cash you haven't spent. "Diamond hands, baby!" you scream into the void. It's not a choice you're making, the exit's been destroyed. Some "anti-dumping feature," that's the official line. To protect you from the whales, isn't that divine? Forty-thousand players, all staring at the dream. The biggest pot of money that they've ever, ever seen. Green light, red light, watch the candle climb high. You can buy another ticket but you can't say goodbye. Sell button's broken, honey, didn't you read the code? The devs just built a better trap to lighten up your load. Welcome to the SQUID coin, a lesson in despair. You can check in any time you like, but you can never leave from there. And then the floor falls out. A single six-minute dive. Three-point-three-million dollars, gone. Poof. The website's dark, the Twitter's scrubbed. The devs are on a beach somewhere, the suckers have been snubbed. Forty-three thousand little ghosts in the machine. The most expensive lesson you have ever seen. It wasn't a game. It was performance art. And you paid for the ticket with your bleeding heart. Green light, red light, watch the candle climb high! You can buy another ticket but you can't say goodbye! Sell button's broken, honey, didn't you read the code? The devs just built a better trap to lighten up your load! Welcome to the SQUID coin, a lesson in despair! You can check in any time you like, but you can never leave from there! Player four-three-thousand... Eliminated.