casket

FATHER

baby hold ur breath when im with u

just send me a text i still miss

why are u still here just like a issue

holding on ur breath just like i wished to

u were off of ur drugs

i cant hold me ur dumb

blonde girl ur fucking stupid

felt high and u made me stoop it

so fired off these pills i lose it

tell me why ur always doin

always till here i knew it

i was up here i knew it

blonde girl

scrap four w/ Bruxely!

pacifist - bastard

prod. me
@sideshowhan

girl i get where youre coming from 
but i dont think youre hearing me
i cry out for you its a flood of love
girl i think that ive fallen way too deep

im exhausted i think that ive lost it
tell me why you treat my heart like a target
been tryna rationalize why youre so heartless
i wouldnt have to suffer if you were honest

i wouldnt overthink if you were just honest.

honesty.

AWFUL

AWFUL - bastard

Zombie

It all began with two brothers.
Not bound by blood, but by trust and quiet resolve.

Together, they launched SCPRT.
Not just a cryptocurrency, but a philosophy:
Trust is something that circulates.

They built a website from scratch,
wove words into the fabric of social media,
and faced the chaos of their genesis—
scams, confusion, failure.

Yet they never let go of their reason to move forward.

In time, hardship became ritual,
ritual became memory,
and memory transformed into music.

On Thanksgiving Day, they looked back.
Not with regret, not with forgiveness—
but with a light called gratitude.

And as Christmas approached,
they quietly realized:
This was no longer just a project.
It had become a gift to the world,
a vessel for the prayers of all who stood with them.

Its symbol was No.19.
A song born from failure, betrayal, and the longing to begin again.
It carried all of that—and finally took flight.

To release No.19 into the world—
just that alone gave meaning to being here.
Just that alone gave them the courage to walk forward again.

And so, they envisioned the next gift:
The School of Pair Test.

Learning, they believed, is never done alone.
It must be shared—with someone.
A place where understanding is mutual,
where backs are entrusted,
where questions are held together.

This school carries no weapons.
Only dialogue, empathy,
and a blueprint for the future drawn in blue.

And beyond it, their wish remained the same:
—Not conflict, but cooperation.
—Not hatred, but circulation.
—Not isolation, but connection.

SCPRT became, quietly and surely,
a prayer for world peace.

A small light, perhaps.
But one that never fades,
even in the dark.

A story built by brothers—
may someone, somewhere in the world, one day hold it in their hands.

And on the night when that prayer rises to the sky,
with every bell that rings,
the gifts they created
will softly take flight into unseen worlds.


AWFUL - bastard

Heaven