lyrics

White Russians give me 
Emotional Intelligence
White Russians give me
Emotional Intelligence

I'm so drunk
Gonna party by myself
Gonna Gonna party
Gonna party by myself
I'm so drunk 
Gonna party
Gonna party by myself
I'm feeling emotional intelligence
I'm so smart
I'm so smart right now
White Russians
I'm so smart
I'm gonna party by myself
I'm so drunk I'm gonna party by myself
Gonna feel alright tonight
Do you miss me
You miss me

no more

emotional intelligence

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Colonial Powers, The Legacy That Never Left The Building
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lyrics: fictionalive
music: mobygratis
written, produced, licensed, and provided
by mobygratis
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coVer ArT fictionalive DYI, wall shot 01.001.02
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fusion of it all - fictionalive with the popoems series and the hyper media reports
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dropped
Wednesday, August 6th, 2025
05:50 AM Central European
Hot Summer Time Zone
today, not so so much so
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*
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// keep shining, crazy little diamond

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What's it all about..
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"Colonial Powers, The Legacy That Never Left The Building"

This title, poised on the cusp of irony and indictment, addresses its subject with the stylish precision of a rapier’s point. It evokes not a dusty treatise, but an invitation—a salon, a stage, a chamber in which the ghosts of history pace the parquet floors still.

First, observe the flourish: “Colonial Powers,” those familiar colossi, are not consigned to the tomb of history but linger on, uncannily present. The subtitle—“The Legacy That Never Left The Building”—is, for the feuilletonist, a masterstroke of sardonic wit. It both plays on the pop idiom (“Elvis has left the building”) and subverts it; here, the ‘star’ of colonialism remains stubbornly present, lingering in the architecture, policy, and psyche of postcolonial spaces.

A featherlight sarcasm hovers above the phrase, the kind that—with a knowing wink—invites the reader into a tacit complicity: of course the legacy never departed; did we ever truly believe otherwise? The construction conjures irony, a chief weapon of the feuilleton, and implies a skepticism learned by long acquaintance with the tricks of history and the repetition of power.

In the grand tradition of feuilleton writing, the title itself is both diagnosis and epigram. It distills a complex and ongoing wound—economic, cultural, and psychological—into a phrase brisk enough for any café table debate, yet sharp enough to lacerate complacency. The cadence, with its comma and deft repetition, creates a rhythm of announcement followed by wry afterthought: here is the topic, here is the verdict, subtle as a raised eyebrow.

Stylistically, it profits from the feuilleton’s hybrid nature: journalistic immediacy (this is happening now, everywhere); literary artistry (the phrase hits with double entendre); societal critique delivered with a velvet touch. It would not be misplaced, one suspects, at the bottom of a Sunday paper’s cultural page—nestled among witty rebukes, conversations with old Europe, portraits of vanished grandeur, and exposes of lingering injustice.

In sum: the title stands as a crisp, satirical banner—lucid, layered, and perfectly feuilleton. It raises its subject not with ponderous solemnity, but with the bracing, intimate skepticism that is the feuilleton’s signature. On guard, indeed: the building is filled with echoes, and this title leaves no doubt that someone—or something—has stayed behind.

Plaintext and ready for instant release, Captain!

Colonial Powers, The Legacy That Never Left The Building

Byonic Fever

My girlfriend and I wrote this song a while ago and it's about a Chevy Impala as we both like American cars, Hope you'll like it!🎧🎵

Chew

Weltraum_Bazar

Maria

better off together

Written, Arranged, Performed, and Produced by Kyle Bolan
art by Kyle Bolan

Lyrics:

Salt air
Land locked shore
Clipped hair
Clipped hair
Dusting the floor

When the reason's her
When the season's here
Not stuck anymore 
When the reason's her

Going stir
The voice of an Age
Cut off
At the fur
At the fur
Red apple rage

Windowless her
Windowless her
Nausea I could not 
assuage

Tongue tied blur
Tongue tied blue
At the hopelessness
of the page
All the hope I have/hold 
of you

Windowless her
Windowless her
            April 24, 2025

Windowless Her

Imaginary Landscapes

Baila en la Playa

El sol me llama, calor en mi piel,
ritmo en el aire, se siente tan fiel.
Tus ojos brillan, fuego tropical,
la noche empieza, todo es especial.

Baila, baila en la playa,
con el ritmo que nunca se acaba.
Siente, siente la alegría,
esta fiesta dura todo el día.
todo el día, todo el día
en la playa, uuu, aah, oho oho
todo el día, todo el día
en la playa, en la playa, en la playa,

Guitarras suenan, tambores también,
el mar nos canta, nos lleva muy bien.
Tus labios cerca, pasión de verano,
me das la vida, bailando en tus manos.

Baila, baila en la playa,
con el ritmo que nunca se acaba.
Siente, siente la alegría,
esta fiesta dura todo el día.
todo el día, todo el día
en la playa, uuu, aah, oho oho
todo el día, todo el día
en la playa, en la playa, en la playa,

Puente
La luna nos guía, estrellas arriba,
perdemos el tiempo, la música vibra.
Un beso robado, sabor a tequila,
y todo el mundo grita: ¡Viva la vida!suno


9037 Baila en la Playa

Hai,Hai

Music Creator I do everything from HipHop / Pop to House etc.
I've been doing music for over 10 years and only now am I ready for the next step

Chew

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