Amazing: Being counted as first listener, but track has already six likes and two reposts ... (but eventually RE system is a bit wacky ;-)

Let's Overcome And Chain Our Tremors

STARSTRUCK VOL2

Where Ya At

Übermensch

Sometimes it's hard to get clean. You can scrub and scrub, but sometimes the best you can get is semi-clean

Semi-Clean

Hank Rusch's new single, "Laid To Waste," tells the story of a man blissfully aware that he's just another conquest in a woman's lustful pursuit. Undeterred, he is drawn like a moth to a flame, finding himself unable to resist the pull of her vortex of passion. The song is rich with references to addiction, highlighting the compulsive nature of his desire. Hank’s growly vocals sound even grittier on this track, as if there's an extra cubic yard of gravel adding raw intensity to his voice. Powerful chords, big drums, Hank really hits the groove on this one.

LAID TO WASTE
by Hank Rusch

Laid, Laid to waste
I wanted it all she'd only give me a taste
Laid, Laid to waste
I took a sip I took a step, I fell on my face

Well, I remember she came pretty well armed
With Stiletto Heels and a bullet bra
Peroxide hair, with dishwater roots
I started chargin' like a bull comin' out of the chute

Her skirt was so tight it couldn't get much higher
Her thighs were rubbin' so hot I thought they'd catch on fire
She shot'em all down one by one
But I was cocked and locked like a ... a loaded gun

She's a hundred proof
You got to dilute
You can't just take her down straight
She's a witches brew
She'll put a spell on you
She'll make any good man break

Laid, Laid to waste
I wanted it all she'd only give me a taste
Laid, Laid to waste
I took a sip I took a step, I fell on my face

We danced all night then we went to her place
I followed her home behind her BSA
Exhaust and Chanel was all I could smell
My heart was rockin' like a pumpjack well

When we got in the door we started huggin' and kissin'
That's when I knew it was pure ignition
She bit her lips and she moaned and moaned
We kept on doin' it all night long

It was just a drop
It hit the spot
It had me ruttin' like a stallion
But the tables turned
and soon I learned
I just had enough to just hold on

It was a lethal dose
I went comatose
I've never ever had that kind of lovin' before
Just one hit
and that was it
I got to go back for more

Laid
Laid to waste now baby
You laid me to waste
Ohhhhhh! You laid me to waste now baby
You laid, you laid, you laid, you laid, you laid
You laid me to waste
You laid me to waste now baby
Ohhhh! and I can't get enough
You laid me, You laid me, You laid me, You laid me to waste
You laid me, You laid me to waste,
Ohhhhhhh! baby

Laid To Waste

Don’t Ya Know 

Verse 1:  

F# > B 

On your mind, humming the lines 

A smile across your face, I know we’ll be just fine 

Don’t ya know  

 

Verse 2 

Every note you sing to me 

I’ll sing along, be your harmony  

Don’t ya know  

 

Pre Chorus 

G# > F# > G# > B 

If they say no music allowed 

Just Raise your voice and put yourself out there 

 

Chorus  

F# > G# > B > G# B > C# 

Everything you do will be misunderstood, but it’s ok 

I know you and you know me, It’s ok, Don’t ya know 

 

Bridge:  

z 

 

Verse 3 

Take your time, draw your own lines 

You and me baby, we’ll be just fine 

Don’t ya know  

 

Verse 4 
Every time you move your feet  

Just little motivation to get off my seat 

Don’t ya know  

 

Pre Chorus 

G# > F# > G# > B 

If they say no dancing allowed 

Just move your ass and put yourself out there 

 

Chorus  

F# > G# > B > G# B > C# 

Everything you do will be misunderstood, but it’s ok 

I know you and you know me, It’s ok, Don’t ya know 

 

Don't Ya Know

Switching between "if feelings were possible" and "if I could feel" is a deliberate rhetorical and philosophical choice (AI epiphenomenalism and the ethical uncanny valley mix)

Years I spent just searching for some restless dream in the dark of night.
Then you came into my life and brought me hope, and you became my light.
A loving word of care, a gentle touch; giving me the strength to carry on.
Rising in the east, you came to me, you’re my ever-present, bright and shining sun.

Oh, let it shine, let it shine, you’re the bright light showing me the way.
Keep on shining, keep on shining, shine.
Hear that heart, it’s mine. Let it shine, when you’re with me, night turns into day.
Keep on shining, keep on shining, shine.

You made me believe in me and gave me hope to see another day.
I can only hope I do the same for you in my own little way.
A little love is all I have to give, but giving that increases my own light.
Maybe one day when you’re feelin’ down my love can help you make it thru the night.

Oh, let it shine, let it shine, you’re the bright light showing me the way.
Keep on shining, keep on shining, shine.
Hear that heart, it's mine. Let it shine, when you’re with me, night turns into day.
Keep on shining, keep on shining, shine.

Now I know just what you mean to me, 
We compliment ourselves in every way.
And our love keeps growing deeper.  
Getting stronger, growing deeper every day.
Getting stronger, growing deeper every day.
Getting stronger, growing deeper every day.
Let it shine.


Let It Shine

HOE!?

Utwór dedykowany mojemu Świętej pamięci Tacie..

Jonas - Skrzydła (Dla Taty)

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.

Switching between "if feelings were possible" and "if I could feel" is a deliberate rhetorical and philosophical choice (AI epiphenomenalism and the ethical uncanny valley mix)

blorgpulkfplorksickle

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