DOECHII - Anxiety (Capslock remix)

Chug Chug with woobs and dark heavy bass what You think?

EastBoar - Burn It All

Save 'season se7en' ➡️ https://ffm.to/s7

[Credits]
Produced by Zacc Lee
Written by Zacc Lee
Mixed & mastered by Zacc Lee

[Lyrics]
Se7en
Let's watch season se7en
Eleven - till eleven
Heaven - you make me feel like I'm in Heaven
Venom - that's your secret weapon

What's your confession?
Tell me how you make a Hel of an impression
& tell me how - do you
Do this the way - you do?

How do you never call it quits
When you stare at the abyss?

I remember when I couldn't do shh
Cause I was too scared to even do shh
I remember I was at my lowest
So I guess I've got you pressed
Bish you know the rest

Look at me - now look at me!
I'm an example of what happens when you
Get your shh together and get on that season se7en
That season se7en - se7en

Se7en
Let's watch season se7en
Eleven - till eleven
Heaven - you make me feel like I'm in Heaven
Venom - that's your secret weapon

What's your confession?
Tell me how you make a Hel of an impression
& tell me how - do you
Do this the way - you do?

How do you never call it quits
When you stare at the abyss?

Se7en - till eleven
Ooh you make me feel like I'm in Heaven
Mmm what's your confession tell me?
How do you make an impression?
(Tell me how!)
You do this the way you do this

Se7en
Let's watch season se7en
Eleven - till eleven
Heaven - you make me feel like I'm in Heaven
Venom - that's your secret weapon

What's your confession?
Tell me how you make a Hel of an impression
& tell me how - do you
Do this the way - you do?

How do you never call it quits
When you stare at the abyss?

season se7en

[Stream]

A catchy, emotionally charged song about unspoken feelings and the frustration of being misunderstood.

Told You Twice

The first vocal track of Mъdrъ / Mudru draft album.  A mix of playing an instrumental before writing the lyrics (which is a departure although has been done a little recently), and also later my older style of writing chord-per-syllable to already-written lyrics toward the end of the piece.

Overall I write pretty naive lyrical pieces.  This guy is kind of a paranoid douche but with the best intentions.  She's like absconding off to (heaven forfend) a different little splinter group than his thing but it turns out to be benign and he inflicts some minor annoying damage by sneaking into their outing.

Lyrics:

Somewhere in the past someone set us up the bomb
Culture shifted so fast that 30 Rock is now a right wing sitcom

Somewhere in Ulster's bowels
Were heard the pangs of an alarm
A girl's heterofatalism was giving her an ulcer
The ginger with a minge
Had had enough of Hinge
Since the latest respondent's saccharine charm 
Was rather laid on with a trowel
The states seemed the right place to flee
And that's how she hooked up with me

How have I hated instruction, 
And my heart despised reproof 
It was the nagging ineluctable
Erosion of fitness under our roof
And what came of it was standing aloof
As i witnessed its destruction

After being the fall guy i was focusing on
Survival in the strange waters that i was swimming
Much like tall guys have no idea 
That they are at war with short guys
Normal women have no idea they are at war with crazy women

I saw our coming doom 
Through the bloodshot glass 
At the bottom of a marinara jar
The girls had started having breadsticks parties
And a lot of gossip got said
And pretty soon our burgeoning movement
Was given up for dead
But one can take theorizing too far
Particularly if you're too well-read

And so at the risk of assaulting my intestines
I engaged in a clandestine infiltration
And the leader of her congregation
Served a sumptuously appetizing oration
On the fiscal dangers of being an oversnacker
At the end of the presentation
One presumptuously testy cracker
Pointed out that one of the high watermarks 
Of our civilization
Is the Domino's pizza tracker

You can imagine their reaction
When I said the most frugal drug
Was constant distraction
In sunshine or rain
It lessens the pain
Of trudging dissatisfaction

We got to a really dark place
And the tipping point began
Around when i was being really crass
And implied that the high priestess was an also-ran
She was really about to kick my ass
I think it was the rage of Caliban
Not seeing her own face in a glass

After several mint juleps
She went and staggered amongst the tulips
magniloquent miss molly
Chided me on my vindictive folly
She asked what are you stupid
What's the point of all this skullduggery for me

Well I am genuinely attracted to you
Having walked too close by Cupid
And that is a pretty stupid thing to be

Magniloquent Molly's Mozzarella Jolly

Everybody has an inner dark side witch can be sweet sometimes...

My Sweet Darkness 2025 version

こめかみに

Bass-heavy dubstep journey with a fresh twist of house beats. Expect surprises around every corner.

Drop Zone Vol 1

Albums

Final Frontier

Sometimes Today Is the Day. Depends on you.

Today Is the Day

Rue Saint-Martin

Cette vie,  qui s’enfuit et s’émiette, 
Cet ennui dont je fuis la silhouette,

Ce Nevers qui m’anime
Monotone, en hiver, 
Et ma rime déraisonne
Rue Saint-Martin Rue Saint-Martin

Au bistro c’était trop la journée,
J’étais au jaune tango toute l’année,

Rue de Nièvre les enseignes
Font la gueule, c’est la fièvre 
Qui me saigne je suis seul,
Rue Saint-Martin Rue Saint-Martin

Quai de Loire j’allais voir solitaire,
Une frangine qui rapine sans manière.
Sur les docks, les biftons,
Ça défile cest du rock
Du cacheton pour les filles
Rue Saint-Martin Rue Saint-Martin

L’été passe et se joue des amours
Qui se lassent et s’échouent pour toujours
Faut pas s’la raconter 
En cachette l’amour ça 
S’débine et ça s’émiette
J’perds mon latin, j'me sens pas bien,
Rue Saint-Martin Rue Saint-Martin

(Paroles Michel Benoit - Musique Alban Bouquette)

Rue Saint Martin

I don't claim any ownership over any of this. Anyone can use any of it for any reason forever. Also I accept liability. Please don't sue me (and/or let's collaborate).

"Holy fucking shit, this shit is crazy wtf"

"Moments of being passable beyond novelty"

"Actually slaps"

At its core, the blorgpulkf is a pulsating, iridescent orb that thrums with an energy that can only be described as "the sound of a thousand bees having a rave inside a kaleidoscope." It's hypnotic, it's unsettling, and it's strangely addictive - like watching a lava lamp filled with Mountain Dew and gummy bears.

But that's just the beginning. Surrounding this pulsing heart are layers upon layers of... well, your guess is as good as mine. One moment it's a tangled web of neon tubes that hum with an eerie frequency, the next it's a churning mass of what appears to be sentient silly putty. And is that a tiny disco ball I see nestled in there? You bet your sweet bippy it is.

As for its features, the blorgpulkf is like a Swiss Army knife designed by a mad scientist with a penchant for pranks. It's got a button that releases a burst of confetti and the sound of a rubber chicken being stepped on, a lever that causes the whole thing to fold in on itself like a origami crane having an existential crisis, and a tiny compartment that dispenses a single, perfectly spherical grape every 37 hours.

But perhaps the most baffling feature of the blorgpulkf is its ability to communicate. Not with words, of course - that would be far too pedestrian. No, the blorgpulkf speaks in a language all its own, a cryptic code of flashing lights, whirring gears, and the occasional burst of atonal jazz played on what sounds suspiciously like a didgeridoo.




The plorksickle. It's like someone took a fever dream, a Mad Lib, and a Dada art installation, threw 'em in a blender, and hit "puree."

Picture this: a contraption that looks like it crawled out of a Salvador Dali painting and mated with a Rube Goldberg machine. It's got a crank that sounds like a yodeling ostrich, a button that releases a puff of glitter and the scent of existential dread, and a tiny screen that just flashes the word "moist" in Wingdings.

But here's the kicker - every time you think you've figured out what it does, it changes the game. One minute it's reciting beat poetry in binary code, the next it's turning itself inside out and becoming a Klein bottle. And don't even get me started on the time it started oozing a viscous liquid that tasted like the color purple.

Is it a tool? A toy? A sentient being from another dimension that's just really, really bad at communication? Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is, it's the most beautifully useless thing I've ever laid eyes on.

But maybe that's the point. In a world where everything has to have a purpose, a function, a reason for being, the plorksickle is a big, fat middle finger to the very concept of sense. It's absurdity for absurdity's sake, a Zen koan in physical form.

So if you ever see me on the street, cradling this bizarre little gizmo like a newborn lovechild, don't ask me what it does. Just nod, smile, and know that you're in the presence of something truly inexplicable. Something that laughs in the face of logic and spits in the eye of reason.

こめかみに

blorgpulkfplorksickle