Yep, that's true. A I can fly. This time it's a powerful excursion through wild skies ...

Stream / Download: https://open.spotify.com/album/6DKBQqbeBqQD9oTzqAbps1

Follow me:
Soundcloud: @blvkz
Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/0gxQMjBMpucbIeC6Q98I53
Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/artist/blvkz/1756931143
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/blvkzmusic

BLVKZ, ZØRO, Luke Muzzic - GOOSEBUMPS FUNK

GOOSEBUMPS FUNK

Download/buy: https://patros15.bandcamp.com/album/being
All links: https://ffm.to/patros15-lumya-being

Support me: https://linktr.ee/Patros15
Thank you for support!

Being

Being (Ambient Slowed Version)

🙏 Download/Stream:
https://elysian.ffm.to/funkdoatmosphere

🙏 Follow us on Spotify:
bit.ly/ElysianSpotify

🙏 74blade
https://instagram.com/74_blade
https://open.spotify.com/artist/07CoGyrUbcBkSzvs1Kd9i6

🙏 stxrbøy
https://www.instagram.com/stxrboy_official
https://open.spotify.com/artist/4hDC6zuK2V5qwyeJcydSPS

🙏 Elysian Records
www.elysianrecords.com
www.twitter.com/elysianrecords
www.youtube.com/elysianrecords
www.facebook.com/elysianrecords
www.instagram.com/elysianrecords

74blade & stxrbøy - FUNK DO ATMOSPHERE

I believe A I can fly

NIGHTMARES

without a fight

Lost

Never Too Late (Extended Mix)

There are many rivers. Each river exists because of what feeds it. It becomes itself because of its tributaries. I am one of many streams, or tributaries, who contribute to the river of art and music and am shaped by what moves through me.  

"Tributary" describes my metaphorical tributary and it describes what happens when the Source of creation flows through a person (the tributary) and is alive inside the human voice. This is the place where I connect with the Creator and allow Him full reign over what flows through me.

I met the "greats" who were not ready for anyone who makes waves. I learned from them; and the temptation is there to do what I see before me, yet I know that without my obedience to Him, my tributary ceases to produce. 

This very song is part of my tribute to Him, acknowledging that He is the One who is the Flow and I am merely His vessel.

***** Lyrics *****

Verse 1
The water whispers the secrets that start to shine—
Wisdom carved in stone that leaves echoes behind.
The call of the current—rough, ancient, and wild—
Teaches me: that to flow at all— is to listen like a child.

Chorus 1
For my own tributary I pay Him tribute now.
For every tear of yearning, every why and how—
He gave me courage and put a future before me—
In my tributary, His Spirit is flowing through me.

Verse 2
I met the streams where songs of the greats reside.
They hesitated to welcome me and my whitewater tide.
I learned about harmony, how to refine my Sound,
He gently reminds me, “stay true to Who you found.”

Chorus 2
For my own tributary I pay Him tribute now.
For every tear of yearning, every why and how—
He gave me courage and put a future before me—
In my tributary, His Spirit is flowing through me.

Verse 3
If I never made a sound or dared to write a word,
the stream’s bed would dry, nothing would be heard.
No trickling water left, no eddies to unwind—
Currents need a Spirit. His Spirit is in me.

Bridge
Every current knows its source, yet forgets where it will end;
The way is shaped by every twist, by every turn and bend.
I was never meant to guide this flow, or keep its force confined—
Just to let its flow move through me, refining heart and mind.
The water speaks in whispers, it hums of where it’s been;
Its memory is mercy, returning again and again.

Final Chorus
I love my tributary and I honor where it’s from,
Each song, lyric, and offering is my way of coming home.
I’ll let it join the ocean’s song, but keep back that part of me—
That keeps my tributary flowing, unbridled, wild, and free.

Outro
He fills my tributary—
He is the One who sets it free,
He is the One who flows through me.

Tributary

zonedout - LUMINOUS STREAM (prod. phntmzn bR)

In My Mind

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"

```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.

I believe A I can fly

blorgpulkfplorksickle

Recent comments

APi_ZZ

Related tracks