[Intro]
Everything’s fine. There never was a war.

[Verse I]
Skull cracks — light explodes
Fell into a world that no one knows
Street’s too quiet, flags still wave
But the buildings whisper from their graves

[Verse II]
I hit my head — no sirens rang
Just a silence sharp enough to hang
Blood on glass, but no one saw
History’s erased by a dentist’s law

[Chorus]
I HIT MY HEAD!
THERE WAS NO WAR!
NO BOMBS, NO BLOOD —
JUST A LOCKED DOOR!
I HIT MY HEAD!
AND THEY SMILED WIDE —
WHILE MEMORIES DROWNED
IN THE CEMENT TIDE!

[Verse III]
Statues clean, uniforms pressed
But I remember fire in my chest
Smoke in lungs, screams like dogs
Now it’s all written off as “fog”

[Bridge]
Maybe the war was just in me
A battlefield of circuitry
Shock and awe in a nervous twitch
Truth unplugged with a surgeon’s stitch

[Verse IV]
Hospital bed or government lie?
Every answer wears a tie
Medication or indoctrination?
Dreams dissolve in sterilization

[Chorus]
I HIT MY HEAD!
THERE WAS NO WAR!
TANKS WERE CLOUDS
AND LIES WERE LORE!
I HIT MY HEAD!
NOW NOTHING’S CLEAR —
WAS IT PTSD OR THE ENGINEER?

[Break]
They told me…
We were always at peace.
They told me…
Bullets were just falling leaves.

[Verse V]
Gaslight gospel on every screen
Rewrite the pain, bleach it clean
No trenches, no shell-shock ghosts
Just padded rooms and daily posts

[Final]
I HIT MY HEAD!
THERE WAS NO WAR!
I SAW IT ALL —
NOW I SEE NO MORE!
I HIT MY HEAD!
AND THE WORLD TURNED OFF!
THE FLAGS STILL FLY —
BUT THE LIES NEVER STOP!

[Outro]
“This is your reality now. Take two pills and salute the sun.”

I Hit my Head

SKEOUMORPH PLAUE: Death Core from Linköping, Sweden. 

Pure Metal! 

Flush Nightmare

This might be our most experimental record yet.
Maybe even the most dangerous one.

Psycho Killer isn’t here to comfort you — it’s here to crawl under your skin.
It’s a fever dream stitched together from dark pop, brutal death metal, grindcore, and the sweet, sick perfume of obsession.
Imagine if Billie Eilish, Nine Inch Nails, and Cannibal Corpse got trapped in a padded room together —
and decided to write love songs for their hallucinations.

This album is a trip through fractured minds —
self-reflection turned inside out,
lust twisted into paranoia,
madness dressed up like beauty.
Every track is a new personality,
a new voice whispering in the dark.

It’s sensual, psychotic, and brutally human.
A carnival of everything broken,
a love letter to the monsters we hide inside.

All of them share one truth:
They are Psycho Killers.
And maybe —
so are you.

Last Straw

Born Of Osiris