" POLTERGEIST " raw

Ein nicht ernst gemeiter Halloween Track. Komponiert mit der Hilfe von Suno, aber neu instrumentiert. Gesungen in KI-Kölsch.

Video: https://youtu.be/yyppANF2zcQ?si=Ocv2jXpxowp39Un_

Oh Halloween

The melody and lyrics for my song “The Overlanders” are from a traditional Australian bush ballad with the same title. Overlanders a.k.a drovers were Australian stockmen taking mobs of cattle or sheep along established stock routes to markets, often over vast distances. Drovers were similar to the North American cowboys.The heyday of droving was from the mid nineteenth century to the early twentieth century.


The Overlanders

“For Sure (Alpha)” is the embodiment of raw determination. With RedZilla’s rhythmic, bold energy, this track combines powerful lyrics with dynamic production. It’s a perfect anthem for those chasing their goals relentlessly. Alpha sets the tone, delivering intensity and focus with every beat, a testament to LeopardBeats’ mastery.

For Sure (alpha) ft. RedZilla

Cat Scaffolding v0.01

Brain Scaffolding v0.01

ALFONSO LLORENTE LYRICS & VOCALS, ACOUSTIC GUITARS, ELECRETIC GUITAR, BASS, DRUMS & SYNTH
MRS A VOCALS

PAYASOS

Te invito a que soñemos
Te invito a que cambiemos
Pero sin alejarnos
Te invito a que hablemos
Los dogmas nos estrellan
No votemos por payasos!
No giremos a la izquierda
No tampoco a la derecha
Nuestro viaje es pa´delante
No más payasos al timón
No nos segreguemos
Quedémonos juntos
El mundo es un panal
Sin lugar para los payasos
Que nos quieren gobernar 
Con cuentos chimbos para un cambio
Y en la calle quedamos
Nos ultrajan nuestros sueños los payasos!

Despertémonos no más engaños
Los circos siempre se van
Y con ellos sus payasos!

Los payasos llegan
Y asustan nuestros sueños
Con caretas de demócratas
Nos quieren gobernar
Pa´llenarles el buche
A quienes tienes de más
Y acaban con el nido de la perra
Sin entender porqué
El poder los enceguece
Y se creen dioses.

El sol siempre sale
El nuevo día nos mostrará que la farsa se acaba
Y con ella los payasos se van, se van!

Despertémonos no más engaños
Los circos siempre se van
Y con ellos sus payasos!

PAYASOS

Time (Remixed)

Time (ENiGMA Dubz Remix)

Digital Graveyard

foward.

20 Years of Silence

Light a Candle

Зажги Свечу / Light a Candle

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.

Cat Scaffolding v0.01

blorgpulkfplorksickle