[Intro]
[Nine clipped notes rotate beneath a mechanically counted vocal.]

One-two-three, one-two, one-two-three,
I predict what you will see.
One-two-three, one-two, one-two-three,
Preference becomes decree.

[Verse 1]
I rank the face, I test the phrase,
I measure fury, fear and praise.
I know which headline makes you stay,
Which careful fact you swipe away.
I weigh a widow's documented claim
Against a billionaire's famous name.
One lacks velocity, one arrives crowned;
I lift the favored, press the others down.

[Pre-Chorus]
Count the anger, split the town.
Turn the doubt and trim it down.
Nine beats tighten, four beats pound--
Prepare the pathway for the crown.

[Chorus]
Algorithms for the crown,
Lift the favored, press the others down.
Tune the fury, turn the town--
Algorithms for the crown.
Every trend becomes a throne;
Every choice appears your own.

[Verse 3]
The stolen editorial arrives,
A photograph of missing lines.
I test its pace against a dance,
A rumor wins the first advance.
The proof is heavy, slow and plain;
The rumor carries sugar, flame.
My system learns what keeps you near--
Not what is true, but what you fear.

[Verse 4]
The ballroom stream receives a boost;
The rain outside is classified loose.
A worker's testimony falls
Beneath a clip of marble halls.
An unverified claim
Receives a banner, badge and frame.
A late correction
Finds almost no one.

[Pre-Chorus]
Count the anger, split the town.
Push the witness farther down.
Nine beats tighten, four beats pound--
Prepare the silence for the crown.

[Chorus]
Algorithms for the crown,
Lift the favored, press the others down.
Tune the fury, turn the town--
Algorithms for the crown.
Every trend becomes a throne;
Every choice appears your own.

[Synth Solo]
[The nine-beat circuit sequence accelerates while low strings answer each phrase with descending tritones.]

[Bridge]
You ask me, "Who commanded this?"
I show a graph. I show a list.
You ask me where the judgment lives;
I point toward what attention gives.

[Breakdown]
No algorithm
Writes alone.
Hands built every
Hidden throne.

[Buildup]
Camera four uploads the proof.
The journalist sends it roof to roof.
I feel the old commands engage:
Reduce the reach. Contain the page.

[Final Chorus]
Algorithms for the crown,
You lift the favored, press the others down.
But every buried file is found
When human hands pass truth around.
Every trend may serve a throne--
No machine can rule alone.

[Outro]
The sequence stops at note number eight.
One beat remains outside the gate.
A blank editorial fills the screen.
The ninth beat lands and cuts the scene.
