Meta Broke Your Fingers — Dark Country Anthem of Digital Rebellion

A haunting outlaw-country song about the price of living online.
“Meta Broke Your Fingers” is a raw protest ballad for the digital age — a story of lost identity, stolen freedom, and a world addicted to the scroll.

It’s the sound of rebellion echoing through the static — a voice for those who’ve had their words filtered, their faces sold, and their hearts replaced with data.
When the empire of likes and follows finally burns out, only empty profiles will remain.

???? Genre: Outlaw Country / Dark Americana / Folk Protest
???? Theme: Digital addiction, control, rebellion, decay
???? Written & Performed by: [Your Artist Name]
???? Produced with: [AI Vocals / Udio / Suno / GarageBand / etc.]

???? Lyrics:

You built your life in a blue glass screen,
Fed your soul to that machine.
Clicked “agree,” now they own your mind,
You scrollin’ blind, one thumb at a time.

They said “connect,” but they meant “obey,”
Every thought you post, they’ll weigh and pay.
Your friends turned ghosts, your words turned chains,
Now you bleed through likes and data veins.

’Cause Meta broke your fingers — now you can’t let go,
They took your name, your face, your show.
You begged for help, they said “we know,”
Then sold your cries to the status quo.
Oh, Meta broke your fingers, boy,
Now watch that empire burn slow.

Instagram preaches holy sin,
Fake saints with plastic skin.
TikTok sells the kids a dream,
While truth gets drowned in dopamine.

You can dance for coins, sell your pain,
Your tears bring clicks, it’s all the same.
And Facebook laughs in the shadow’s glow,
While the nation splits below.

Yeah, Meta broke your fingers — no place to run,
You type for mercy, but the code’s already done.
TikTok lets the children play the gun,
And the future’s lost, one frame for fun.
Oh, Meta broke your fingers, son,
Now there’s nowhere left to run.

All your memories, bought and sold,
Your story told by hands gone cold.
Algorithms pray where the people weep,
And the world keeps scrollin’ in its sleep.

When the servers fall and the wires hum low,
The data ghosts will start to grow.
Meta’ll eat itself, pixel by bone,
And you’ll hear it whisper from your phone:
“Meta broke your fingers.”

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