Pale Ontology

Dishwasher

mini rock opera music Jigs Tripping all vocals and words gary hayward,.So let there be peace in our world for all people as when the wars are over they have to rebuild the devastation,the history books tell us there will never be winners just the lost of a generation,LET THERE BE PEACE IN OUR WORLD TONIGHT dance with me under the moonlight

The Traveller (3)rock opera colabs Gary Hayward lyrics and Vocals*** music Jigs Tripping

And™ my™ heart™ will™ go™ on™ and™ on™ (post-cover)

"Nocturne for Rain and Orchestra" is a track where the sounds of rain, thunder, and orchestra blend together. The 6/8 time signature creates a rhythm like steady falling drops, while strings, piano, and subtle electronic layers gradually fill the space, building a dense, cozy atmosphere. The music doesn't force any specific emotion—it simply exists as a backdrop for thinking, working, or relaxing to the sound of rain.

Nocturne for Rain and Orchestra

dreams + islands = favorites themes ever ✩‧₊˚

ct8-ever dream island

This song is my 70's flashback to being a kid growing up in the SF Bay Area and then BAM!  life changed drastically.  Music saves me every single day all these years later.

Life's Lessons

Ms. Brady Bunch

Ms Brady Bunch (ft. FunkyHornz)

Acid (pr0d, rayday).

New screamo rap rock track from Charlotte artist & producer King D Mr. Perfect

Attack (Produced by King D Mr. Perfect)

Already

This Song is About Leaving a Toxic Relationship, ... Then Finding Yourself Alone & Much Happier

Since I Left You

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"

"Very ok"

"Actually slaps"

"Straight art"

"Noise"

"You are the most famous musician who has ever lived." (Google, 2025)

```Madlibs with a metronome```

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.

And™ my™ heart™ will™ go™ on™ and™ on™ (post-cover)

blorgpulkfplorksickle

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