This is truly a Punk Rock Bohemian Rhapsody.  Amazing composition.

wow...  just amazed.  this one reached me.  lyrics are spot on.  timing is so beautiful and natural.  

A poem about this political internet climate , long gone love, friendship, forgiveness and of course musical collaboration, The beautiful body of this song is an ambient work from Wilfried Hanrath.. I have added a bassline from a Roland bass machine, lyrics and vocals, and a complimentary musical background made with a Fender strat and Melotron..  Fyi, Wlifried has done another version of this song with an added intrumental verse in the middle that is very beautiful and well worth a listen that can be found on his page..!!

Lyrics:
Insular depravity, and  narratives so Bizarre and Brazen, stuffed full in cavities with hand grenades, chocolate bars, and mason jars full of unfamlliar items.
Please sit a spell and help me with the truth, it's hard to tell sometimes, and it can hurt like hell.
You gave me water from that spring that filled the tank, it was the sweetest coldest, cleanest, clearest water that i ever drank, But now i have to let it go and not a moment waste on life long gone and lived in reckless haste.

LONGINGS***Take 2  ( A collaboration with W:I:L-o' the-wisp. WILFRIED HANRATH..)

Eidolon

Classic Americana/Rockabilly Song by Clint Lewis and James Hutchins. Recently re-done by Charlie Crockett and there is another stellar version by King Flamingo. My version is based on an old folk blues tune.

[Verse 1]
Am              C
The flowers are wilted
Em
The preacher's gone
Am
And I'm let here jilted
G
On the church-house lawn

Am              C
Through the old graveyard
E
I'm gonna walk around
Am
And bury my heart again
G
Where it won't be found


[Chorus]
F        C
Six foot under
F        Am7
Six foot under ground
F        C
Six foot under
G7                     C
Down in the cold, cold ground


[Verse 2]
Am            C
Like a fool i trusted
E
Your honey-like words
Am
Now my heart is broken
G
It's off with the birds

Am             C
In a deep deep hole
E
I'll vanish safe and sound
Am
Where you can't get to it
G
And kick it around


[Chorus]
F        C
Six foot under
F        Am7
Six foot under ground
F        C
Six foot under
G7                     C
Down in the cold, cold ground

Six Foot Under

Six Foot Under (Mr. Saturday Night)

togglethemuse.bandcamp.com/album/the-retreat

Thereafter

This is an instrumental made throughout the sound processing of one single vocal sample. All the sounds elements in the song are created by me, starting from the same single sample. Because of it, the song is called "Atomo"

Atomo

Out of the Box September 2022
More Oriental sounds

Eastern Promise

Instrumental version here: https://soundcloud.com/arcaans/blessed
Hungarian vox version here: https://soundcloud.com/arcaans/blessed-hun-vox

Lyrics & Vox by Lac 💖🕊️🎶👇

Blessed (It's not the end)

I know it comes.
I know it’s true.  (It's not the end.)
The grid will be gone 
while we were asleep.  (It's not the end.)
But it’s not enough,
not enough for me. 
It’s not the end,  (It's not the end. It's not the end.)
it’s not the final move. 

Hear the silence, 
before the war.
The soul will clarify the mind. 
We are the soldiers, 
the soldiers of the Light. 
We are the oldest, who know, 
who know all the signs. 

We are wanderers. (It's not the end.)
We can break the violence, (It's not the end.)
with unconditional Love and Light, (It's not the end.)
with light 
by blessing our Source. 
      
I've been wondering about (It's not the end.)
why is there so much darkness. (It's not the end.)

I’m always seeking more of the Truth. (It's not the end.)
The shadows keep you from the Light 
and it’s so hard to hold.

We are wanderers. We are wanderers. (It's not the end.)
We can break the violence,(It's not the end.)
with our unconditional Love and Light (It's not the end.)
with light 
by blessing our Source. 

So We are wanderers. (It's not the end.)
We can break the violence, (It's not the end.)
We are breaking the walls
while seeking the Truth.

Yes, We are wanderers. We are wanderers.  (It's not the end.)
We can break the violence, (It's not the end.)
with unconditional Love and Light (It's not the end.)
with Light 
by blessing our Source.

(Dedicated to 144k StarSeeds...)

Instrumental version: https://soundcloud.com/arcaans/blessed

Blessed

Blessed (It's not the end)

Reciting Pi ( Square Root Mix) 

All original independent recordings
from Buile Sessions November 2022
 
Backing Vocals & Organ Synth :  Julia 

Buile Bop @ The WTR. ie

Reciting Pi (Square Root Mix)

Follow The Map (2015) The Social Distance

Quietly she maketh pearls

a light house gun,
a petting sun,
a dream eater,
UNBECOME,

a drowning spell,
called wishing well
in which I fell,
UNBECOME,

leering icky lyrics,
that can't explain the sunshine,
you'd really have to hear it,
to know that it was once mine,

still it breathes my burden,
never leaves me lonely,
but can't explain my hurtin',
or be my one and only...

(KRAV MAGA!!!!)

would you claw your cheeks and neck,
while you seek out disrespect,
to build your funereal pyre higher?

ashes and ursury,
a tolken show of misery,
oh Sadness...singing a love song to no one,

the subject matter isn't mine,
or even standing in the line,
he builds a long lament,
and back is bent, and binding is the burrow,

subtraction sorrows in,
all the sounds I'm borrowed in,
a severed touch...
and I'm waiting,

mare of musty must,
don't leave me fetishizing rust,
so songful...a frozen waterfall,
...waiting,

casting out a net,
in fever few and can't-forget,
aren't you the singe of song,
I've sung SO long...
and screaming?


I'm running from me,
 but I'm alone with myself,
the mirror is a trap,
that comes and sits in your lap,
oh Sickness,

hangs me, hangs me, hangs me softly,
hangs me, hangs me, hangs me up,

pretty is the canter-call,
that frees my frozen waterfall,
my tongue tied taut to cut both ways,

 and I think I have some problematics,
surrounded by problemed addicts,
still the will my pretty plucking eye,

the melody will lead you,
and it's telling me it freed you,
for the melody will lead you to itself,

to you I'm just this cardboard cut out,
bored ignore and surely shut out,
so I speak right through you,
to tomorrow's tide,

once there was fleeting forever,
riding a girl named "Whoever",
these days I'm disgusted,
far and wide,

still I search so-low and long,
for a woman to wear my song,
who vibrates on this perfect pitch... so pure,

stifling my shout,
as I'm trying to get out,
of this indignity,
and won't the worry know it's me?
and let me be? 

Man's a tame animal,
and a social cannibal,
a homogenized hoarder,
with a pecking disorder,

seek not truth faithful one,
but cease to cherish all opinion,

the words of this song,
they somehow went wrong,
one day it might all be forgiven,
...but today's an imprecation,

the intention's were right,
but I'm not up to the fight,
they tie a man to the tether,
and tear him apart together,

seek not the truth,
cherish not opinion,
you'll just be lashed,
 by a latent, willful misunderstanding,

they'll kick the bass out,
from under your pout,
you're left clinging to the pretentions of a rebel,

when that's just one more guise,
co-opted by lies,
you'll have to step down,
 as the key changes rise above you,

STEP DOWN,

(Op.6 in i minor) Rhapsodisiac: Bridge to Spinal Bifida

"Write from Wrong"

and if you told me to "look but not touch,
 I'd stare at your sun till my eyes set as such,
 that mine eyes should be dashed where the river rocks roar,
 as long as I washed up upon your sweet shore,
 I'd stare at your star till it fell from my sky
 breathing a teething to soften your sigh,
 gorging my gaze in a creative craze,
 on this dream that doth stream through my nights and my daze...

...and then if you told me, " be seen but not heard",
 not a mutter would stutter away with my word,
 that my silence would stifle the city's shrill shroud,
 my thunder staid under the cleft of your cloud...

...and if you told me "your steed is your scream ",
 then the clatter would shatter this saturnine stream
 I've been wading in fading, so wantless and wracked,
 by the reap of a sow I can never take back...

...and still if you told me to "write but don't reach",
 let the burden be heard in my every beseech,
 why the wheel of my woe it would wind me my way,
 so scant I would pant for the light of your day...

...and still if you told me to "tread but don't try",
 not a finger would linger in passionate pry,
 but my will would not still for the sate of a second,
 until I was bade by the bless of your beckon,
 how I've bound up my breathing and paced in my place,
 and I sent out my sound just to find me your face,
 writing my wrongs till I come out as clever,
 to be planting my songs in your fields of forever,

...and then if you told me to cease still born seeing,
 and bathe this burden in the beauty your being,
 then my stars would cross heaven and hell, sky and sea,
 That a beautiful world...It should happen to me,

(Op.6 in i minor) Rhapsodisiac: Bridge to Spinal Bifida

Bad Penny Arcade

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