Rain On Me

Twisted Intentions

Soso (Duetta Version)


[Intro]
I’m online but I’m not here
Blue check, but I disappear
Scrollin’ through a thousand lives
None of them feel like mine
[Verse 1]
I post a smile, I blur the pain
Filter truth, retouch the rain
I’m a highlight reel in motion
But I’m drowning in the ocean
[Pre-Chorus]
I’m seen, I’m liked, I’m known
But I still feel alone
I’m tagged in every scene
But lost behind the screen
[Chorus]
I’m a verified ghost
Living in a digital host
You see my face, not my soul
I’m curated, not whole
I’m a verified ghost
Echoing in every post
I’m everywhere, yet nowhere close
I’m a verified ghost
[Verse 2]
I swipe through love, I scroll through hate
My heart’s on read, it’s out of date
I’m logged in but I’m locked out
Of what this life’s really about
[Bridge] (vocoder harmonies + ambient FX)
I’m not a username
I’m not a brand
I’m just a voice
You don’t understand
[Final Chorus]
I’m a verified ghost
Living in a digital host
You see my face, not my soul
I’m curated, not whole
I’m a verified ghost
Echoing in every post
I’m everywhere, yet nowhere close
I’m a verified ghost
[Outro]
Log me out, let me feel
Something raw, something real

Verified Ghost

Boots On, Heart Open is an unapologetic fusion of grit and vulnerability. Country soul collides with metal fury and trap fire, turning working-class scars into anthems and quiet heartbreak into battle cries. Every track is built for the ones who keep moving when life knocks them flat — steel-toed, blood-stained, unbroken.

This isn’t background music. This is sweat, dirt, and catharsis with the volume pinned in the red. For the dreamers who grind, the workers who bleed, and the stubborn souls who refuse to die quietly.

Turn it up. Kick the dust off. Leave the heart wide open.

Boots On, Heart Open

Grit & Grief

I Opened My Mouth to Sing 两只老虎 But Instead Ten Thousand Beetles Poured Out Each One Carrying a Tiny Photo of Your Face From Different Timelines 真奇怪真奇怪 (Positron Mix)

emotional, poetic, piano, strings, classical, female vocals, original 

4ever

GHOST-FREQUENCIES

Upside Down

Remember who you are.mp3

Kiss Me BL8antBand by BL8antBand

Lyrics:  

[BL8antBand Cattle Call]

[Verse]
Moonlight dripping like a silver thread
Your shadow dances where angels tread
The world fades out
Just you and me
A silent movie on a restless sea

[Chorus]
Kiss me slow
Kiss me fast
Make this moment always last
Kiss me here
Kiss me now
I don’t care about the how

[Verse 2]
Your eyes are storms
Pulling me in
A wildfire blaze under my skin
No words needed
Just the sound
Of hearts beating
The only ground

[Prechorus]
Every second
Every sigh
I’m alive when you’re nearby

[Chorus]
Kiss me slow
Kiss me fast
Make this moment always last
Kiss me here
Kiss me now
I don’t care about the how

[Bridge]
Underneath the stars we’re untamed
Burning bright
No need for names
A spark
A flash
We collide
Kiss me till there’s nothing to hide 

#BL8antBand #CattleCall #KissMe 
 


Kiss Me BL8antBand

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 Opened My Mouth to Sing 两只老虎 But Instead Ten Thousand Beetles Poured Out Each One Carrying a Tiny Photo of Your Face From Different Timelines 真奇怪真奇怪 (Positron Mix)

blorgpulkfplorksickle