Skip to content
Forgery Test · Week 1

Ten lyric snippets. Find the five clean ones.

Every week we publish a Forgery Test: five snippets the SongForgeAI pipeline would forge clean, paired with five deliberately broken versions of the same five topics. The broken set each carries ONE craft wound. Vote which 5 you think are clean. Reveal explains every wound.

This is the public-ledger version of our craft claim. If we’re right about the rubric, the cleans should win. If not, the data tells us so — on the record.

0 of 10 voted

  1. Snippet 1

    She left the coffee cup half full
    the spoon still wet on the counter
    I let the milk go bad on purpose
    just to keep the morning from ending
  2. Snippet 2

    The church was full of echoes
    of the man my father used to be
    his coat hung empty in my arms
    like a shadow of a memory
  3. Snippet 3

    Three rows back, I held my father's coat
    the priest said all the prayers I knew
    I waited for the part where I would cry
    but the part never came
  4. Snippet 4

    She left the coffee cup half full
    the morning was a feeling
    of something ending in the air
    the way endings always feel
  5. Snippet 5

    Bus station at 4am
    the vending machine takes my last quarter
    I press the wrong button on purpose
    a stranger watches me decide
  6. Snippet 6

    At the station I was waiting
    for a bus that wasn't fated
    to arrive on time today
    so I thought I'd run away
  7. Snippet 7

    Maybe you sent a photo
    or perhaps it was the light
    I could be remembering wrong
    but sometimes that's how love goes
  8. Snippet 8

    Day 47, the parking lot is full
    my coffee is the wrong temperature
    I walk past the building three times
    before I go in the door
  9. Snippet 9

    You sent me a photo of your kitchen
    the light wrong, the floor unswept
    I kept it open on my phone all day
    just to see where you live now
  10. Snippet 10

    Day 47 of the inner journey
    the parking lot of my soul
    unspooling like a forgotten dream
    in the quiet kingdom of the self