cool samples. something verbose. you still feel your body after youre dead.

you sound incredible, great writing as well

That was beautiful and weirdly chilling. Though it’s snowing in Texas right now so it may be that 🥶

damn this is such a bop, but the lyrics are hitting hard lovely stuff!

This is fantastic! I would love to make art to your songs!

I jump right into the big wide blue,
down to the ocean,
yeah it's really something

I see distorted stars in my view,
in my reflection,
in my little section

Jump Into The Big Wide Blue

lydia

the CIA

plastic death

coelacanth

How deep does it go? Make a kind incision.
Draw a sigil with my index finger in division
Of your wings in a gentle attack
From the nape of your neck to the small of your back.
Electricity. The spark inside your spinal column
Make you quiet as the atmosphere has sanctified and sound is solemn.
And I recall em from the time of regret.
You can call me your servant. You can call me your pet.

And you can savour the truest way to love they neighbour.
Succumb Divinity, insinuate you love they labour.
I saw a vision of conspiring fates
In the shapes that make up your beautiful face.
There's no percentage or residential benefits
Or real way to quantify the overwhelming evidence
That the severance from entropy leads to the station
Of pleasant forms of sensory deprivation.

No more relief. Relief's not needed.
Satisfied with the sway of the space.
When you're stroking my hair with your hand on my waist. Love it.
All thoughts and movements are correct.
Many times when I felt misaligned.
I was waiting for you. I was outta my mind.

Little black camisole. Ankle socks. Petticoat.
Medical manacles, cannibal pentacles, honeycomb.
Money gone stockings. Chemical sentinel walking.
No need to talk but a mental will to stop watching.
In the comical, experience the serious.
I want it dominant. I want imperious.
I want authority's hand. I want your governance.
I am the coveted. You're the covetous.

Limited hours. Devour your stimulants now for intimate powers.
Allow your sentiment down. No cynical flowers. 
No cowering. Elegant.
Trace the lines of the dour to the roots of your skeleton.
And now we're dead again. What's the etiquette?
Are we mannequins? Are we feminine?
Doesn't matter 'cause I feel no need for penitence.
Another renaissance. Another specimen
______________
Samples 
1. Dvořák, Symphony No. 9, Conducted by Georg Solti for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. London Records.

Sigil

Irreverent, never could be solemn.
Anger wasn't T. Turns out it was a me problem.
Was an A, tried to put me in the B column.
See the writing on my head? I'm a she-golem.

A single letter makes the Emet, Meth.
The jagged ink lines between truth and death.
If the word's impure, you won't heed the lesson.
Watch your body seek acceptance as a permanent weapon.

I bore witness to infernos raging out on the plain.
And I focused them down to a little blue flame.
And I use the little flame to assign what I feel
To a little blue blade that can cut through steel.

And abominations fall beneath my even temper.
Will you seek redemption or redeem the center
Of esteemed assenters? Will you seek the answer?
Let the little blue blade cut out the cancer.

Sovereignty, commonly assigned to big drama.
Devilish ghosts designed to eat up.
Think the motherfucker metaphysics pause inside the big comma.
Servile silence must be corrupt.

Wanna take em by the jugular, lay em flat
In the six positions on the ugly mat.
Take a baseball bat and with six collisions,
Smug precision, take your vision back.

And I saw the little Gods that reside in the earth.
And I suddenly knew what the focus was worth.
And sympathy's sweat from divine directors
Rendered little ol me these Gods' protector.

And abominations fall beneath my even temper.
Will you seek redemption or redeem the center
Of esteemed assenters? Will you seek the answer?
Let the little blue blade cut out the cancer.

Samples:
1. Glass Onion, The Beatles 
2. Vitamin C, Can
3. 74-75, Sonny Sharrock
4. Enter the Dragon, Bruce Lee
5. Verklärte Nacht, Arnold Schoenberg

Little Blue Blade

Had a jacket hadn't put on in a long time.
Seam stuck out and headed down the wrong line
To a pocket where I knew that I had got mine
Once the sun's eye blotted out the thoughtcrime.

I found a lighter in the depts of the jacket pocket.
A soul delivered in the mask of a plastic object.
Had to bask in the terror of the drastic project
Of forgetting all the brass I saw within your logic.

But I remember this lighter and the cigarette
When you tried to quit.
You're always trying to quit. 
But this final dart, would be the end of it.

Next day I saw you hack a few on Queen Street.
Walked up with my stupid little mean streak.
You looked sheepish and you asked "Do you hate me?"
I laughed a trace and I said "not lately."

I asked you if you want your lighter for your pleasure burden.
You said "it's a gift. you need it bitch. I know you're hurtin"
We stood in silence in the frigid cold death weather.
Then I bummed another dart and we smoked together.

I think that must have been three four years ago,
The time I knew you for a microcosmic miracle.
Echoic seering my mind of the serial
Tapestry scraps scrolling past as your burial.

Saw your body embalmed in a small space.
Saw your mug made up like a doll's face.
It made me nauseous and nostalgic in the wrong ways.
I had to con myself calm into a false grace.

Your parents asked if I thought that you had really suffered.
I said "I didn't know enough about your lovely daughter."
And I don't know if there's an afterlife or kindly God or
Sign that e can point to that - and then I stuttered.

I saw the answer I was giving them was devastating.
So I said 'No," but this answer wasn't placating.
Three seconds felt eons as I kept them waiting.
For reassurance they succeeded in their child-raising.

And in a panic, blurted out that she would always get
A bit erratic but emphatically get over it.
This just made your crying mother more upset.
She said "guess she didn't love us more than she loved death."

Three millisecond trek into something cosmic.
Had a beautiful life, but then I went and lost it.
Memory bank starved for fresh deposits.
Put the old jacket back in the death closet.

Samples:
1. Angels and Demons at Play, Sun Ra, Angels and Demons at Play (1965)
2. The Big Sleep, (1946)
3. That's How I Feel, Sun Ra, Lanquidity (1978)
4. Klankbeeld, Medium local traffic 02 161003_1004.wav, Freesound (2016)
5. Frank Sinatra, It Was a Very Good Year, September of my Years (1965)
6. Hedonfire, River, birds, distant loon, Freesound (2022)

I Don't Hate You

They're hunting me every day.
Looming threat on the horizon.
Predator try and make me pray.
Looming threat on the horizon.
May I gain the horror's grace?
Looming threat on the horizon.
Now I see the devil's face.
Looming threat on the horizon.

Sharp teeth. Eyes red.
Will you join the glorious dead?
Will you see fit to help deplete this land
For elites' demand for completeness?
Weak stomach. Coward's strategy
On the back of the power's chastity.
Last longer in your fast lane fantasy
But they won't let you go on longer than you have to be

Useful. I saw the superficial and I wanted to embrace it.
Useful. Temporary safety disguised as the faceless.

Gun to your head now it's time for your discrete example.
Congregation cheers for a bullet in defeated temples.
Ernst Röhm, Maricón, Roy Cohn, knives out.
Long blades shave, turn your insides wide out.

Mortgage you future for five years of opulence
Knowing you're betrayed by the prophecy's confidence.
Is the extra year of life before the laying of the knife worth indignity?
The time bomb of providence?

Useful. A little more time getting coddled by the predator.
Useful. You aren't like me. You're only a competitor.

All the sights. All the smells. 
All the people meaning well.
Say you act like you should once
You're one of the good ones.
You make an enormous
Pathetic performance.
The normative chorus
Endorsing the torments.

Take a finger off. Crowd shouts "more."
Take your arm off. Crowd shouts "more."
They see your blood and they call you "whore."
This is the life you bargained for.

Take your legs and your eyes and your mouth and your 
Senses out from the real of doubt.
It's the final route. It's the fate of the unethical.
Your soul is more than merely hypothetical.

Might be too weak to hear it
But that's the sound of your putrid spirit.
Its whimpering, hoarse and desiccated.
Its source cut off when your force is domesticated.

Samples:
1. Law and Order: SVU, "Fallacy" (2003)
2. Strut Hear, Kid Koala, Carpal Tunnel Syndrome (2000)
3. Das Rheingold, Wagner
4. Ghosts: First Variation, Albert Ayler, Spiritual Unity (1965)
5. Sound Landscapes, Laughter in the Beaubourg, Freesound (2011)
6. Kid Charlemagne, Steely Dan, The Royal Scam (1976)
7. Le Tombeau de Couperin, Ravel
8. William F. Buckley and Gore Vidal debating

Looming Threat On The Horizon

Had a hard time knowing who to trust.
I starved myself of human touch.
Thought my soul was high above this.
I've had enough of being loveless.

I feel the lust. I feel the hum.
Of a thousand imaginary voices pleading me to cum.
I gotta be polite. Gotta do my best.
Spend a lifetime getting all their notes, fulfilling their requests.

Letting all the ghosts in. 
Playing host to a universal motion.
Hears the waves of the ecto-ocean 
Water lapping up your soul's devotion.
"Never gonna hurt her."
Whisper ghosts to reassure her.
"We're not gonna murder,
Our favourite public pervert."

Feeling like Scheherazade.
Another tale for a punitive demigod.
Living Necronomicon.
Staving off death by making up phenomena.
For the entertainment 
Of a brainless, hateful audience of satans. SATANS!
Make another statement.
You don't wanna end up in their basement.

Long time flipping for the freedom I seek.
We inherit the meek as the earth rejects.
Long time thinking your demeanour was weak
But submissive mystique is one that protects.
It's a feeling you get when you never regret
When they burn your neck with a cigarette.
It's a ziggurat. Where the temples at.
Now shut your fucking mouth and grab my ass.

Give me your possession. Obliterate my body as a true confession.
I am but a vessel for the machinations of your devils.

I'm never me at any second but my fate is ordained.
How can the voice of death beckon when no ego remains?
When you're everybody else I thought that I could be not I.
I'm not alive so I thought I could never really die.

Chemical dependence. 
I'm an animal serving her sentence.
Never think about descendants. 
It exacerbates existing tensions.
You can still eliminate
Egoless entities, making them assimilate. 
And the chemical will levitate.
It separates, forms a precipitate. 

Causality's hand is vicious.
Couldn't escape the incidental wishes.
Acidic hiss from caustic kisses
Of a cosmic stalker who reminisces
Of a back and forth, of a gentle business,
in the mental physics of an avatar.
It's an abattoir. Not your decisions
But the odd incisions of the butcher's art.

It's the butcher's heart. It's the comedy.
When they're taking it apart for economies. 
It's an honour common on the daughter's coffin.
Often primadonna's offer freedom on this. Thoughtless.

On and off in your subconscious.
Haunted housewife, softened convict.
On the outside, doubt you're dauntless
But in the interior, fear the process.

SAMPLES
1. You Boy, Carol Anderson, 7" Single (1972)
2. Eastside Verse Drums, Garageband Loop
3. He Was a Big Freak, Betty Davis, They Say I'm Different (1974)
4. Scheherazade, Rimsky-Korsakov, Detroit Symphony (2024)
5. Sweat Loaf, Butthole Surfers, Locust Abortion Technician (1987)
6. Something, The Beatles, Abbey Road (1969)
7. Halber Mensch, Einstürzende Neubauten, Halber Mensch (1985)

additional vocals performed by PAIGE:
https://www.therealpaigewilliams.com/
twitter.com/paigepaigemhmmm
http://instagram.com/paigepaigemhmmm
__________________________________________
LYRICS

i was treading in the sea
fastened to the fable of an island made of green

and i was threading through my seams
tangled in the fabric of a fleeting fever dream

far beyond my mind's fixation
there are fascists making factions of their fucked up brigades

and im a sad little boy
playing with childhood toys
and fluoxetine joys

in the fashion of a

i'm the sad little mouth
screaming without a sound
oh! hold me dear, I wallow out in vain

i'm the perilous weight
pinning you to the gate
as metal coils clash and call out your name

just when you think i'm gonna stop
im winding up these frail chains for one more good time romp

cause you're such a class act
such a lad, such a snack
when your fiction is fact
in the fashion of a

additional platforms

FASHION feat. paige

when the day becomes the night
something else consumes my sight
every full moon must collide
as the sirens silence all the violins

where's the wolf that's feeding on the hounds?
where's the wolf that's feeding on the hounds?

in the days of stone and ice
heard that rainfall out of sight
now your game's in broad daylight

when the violins silence all the sirens you set off
you did this to yourself
thought that you could rig the game and no one would tell
you said a beast was on the loose
and maybe that was true
cause now we know that all this time the werewolf was you
the werewolf was you

the werewolf was you

when the violins silence all the sirens you set off
you did this to yourself
thought that you could rig the game and rob us to hell
you said a beast was on the loose
and maybe that was true
cause in the end we all found out the werewolf was you
the werewolf was you

you're the wolf that's feeding on the hounds
you're the wolf that's feeding on the hounds

I Don't Hate You

Anechka The Rabbit

Recent comments

Zompetaddon

MoonBaseBaby

dj terezi

Sinnamon Ghost Crunch

Related tracks