FOLIO (personal ❤️)

Mantras / Smooth prods

All my tracks above a thousand plays here 🙏 🍀

1000s (public 👍)

I like it funky sometimes

❤️ 🍀

"Renascimento em Movimento" é uma canção que conta a história de uma transformação profunda, marcada pela luta para abandonar 20 anos de hábitos prejudiciais. O protagonista decide deixar para trás o excesso de café e o consumo de tabacos, embarcando numa jornada de renovação ao se tornar nómada digital.

Renascimento em Movimento (take 7)

"With My Tribe" is about the strength that comes from those around us. It’s a song about fighting against yourself, against your own fears, but with the support of the people who matter. The tribe is those who understand you, who lift you up when you fall.

--- Lyrics

Verse 1
I’ve been running from shadows, lost inside,
Building walls I thought would keep me safe inside.
But then I hear my people calling me back,
With open arms, they show me what I lack.

Chorus
The only thing standing in my way is me,
But I’m not alone—I’ve got my tribe with me.
They’re lifting me up, showing me the way,
Helping me break these chains I’ve made.
I’m learning to see,
With my tribe beside me, I’m free.

Verse 2
They see my scars, they know my fear,
But in their strength, my path gets clear.
When I fall, they pick me up again,
A circle of love that never ends.

Chorus
The only thing standing in my way is me,
But together we’re stronger, my tribe and me.
They give me courage, they help me believe,
Remind me of all that I can achieve.
I’m learning to see,
With my tribe beside me, I’m free.

Bridge
In their eyes, I see my strength,
In their hands, I find my faith.
With every step, they walk with me,
Guiding me toward who I’m meant to be.

Outro
So I’ll face myself, with my tribe by my side,
Knowing I’m held, I’ve got nothing to hide.
Together we rise, together we see,
The only thing stopping me… was me.

With my tribe

A dialogue between our music and back vocals and AI for the lead vocals
---

[Verse 1]
Through a housefire's blaze, we stood tall,
Banks fell twice, but we didn't fall.
With debts and a handicap too,
We rose from the ashes, starting anew.

[Chorus]
We're not dead, we're alive,
Against the odds, we thrive.
School and work, we make it right,
Sedentary nomads, winning the fight.

[Verse 2]
Every two years, a new place to roam,
Building our family, making it home.
In every corner of this big, wide world,
Our banner of triumph is unfurled.

[Chorus]
We're not dead, we're alive,
Against the odds, we thrive.
School and work, we make it right,
Sedentary nomads, winning the fight.

[Bridge]
Black storms can't break our stride,
Together, we're a powerful tide.
In chaos, we find our song,
Together, we belong.

[Chorus]
We're not dead, we're alive,
Against the odds, we thrive.
School and work, we make it right,
Sedentary nomads, winning the fight.

[Outro]
Housefires, banks, and debts can't bind,
Our spirit's free, our will won't unwind.
From ashes to triumph, our path is set,
We're not dead, don't you forget!

We're Not Dead - feat. LILI

Punk Medicine

Eighteen years of fire and rain,
Through every joy, through every pain.
We’ve walked through storms, we’ve danced through night,
Still, your hand is holding mine so tight.

We’ve built a home from love and trust,
Through broken dreams and scattered dust.
But every tear, every scar,
Led us right back to where we are.

I love you so.

Five little hearts, five shining lights,
Echo our love in whispered nights.
They see in us a love so true,
A flame that time could never undo.

We've been to hell, we’ve touched the sky,
But never once said our goodbye.
Every fall, every fight,
Only made us hold on tight.

I love you so.

I love you so

Je t'aime tant

Work Till It's Done

Live in balance

I walked the grid where history’s dead,
Concrete bones, fiber-optic thread.
My boots leak truth, my fingers bleed code,
Singing static where memories corrode.

Give me diesel, give me noise,
A city glitching with broken toys.
No signal, no God, no endgame plan—
Just me, my six strings, and this data jam.

They sold the past in packs of ten,
Then burned it, rewrote it, sold it again.
But I remember. Yeah, I still hum.
Old blues don't die—they rerun.

You got me over

I was idling in the shadows,
Heart half-asleep, days on repeat.
Smoke in my lungs, rust in my bones,
Time was grinding me down, slow and sweet.

But I hit the road,
Let the blacktop bite,
My blood caught fire,
My soul took flight.

I’m riding hard with the wind in my veins,
Every push of the pedal rewinds the days.
Heart on fire, breath like thunder,
I’m screaming my resurrection into the wonder.

Forty-eight hours, I’m a brand new man,
Legs are screaming, lungs don’t care.
The colors came back, sharp and loud,
I’m alive, goddamn, and I’m not scared.

Every drop of sweat
Washes off the years.
The pain’s the truth,
The ride’s the cure.

I’m riding hard with the wind in my veins,
Burning the miles like they’re made of flame.
Heart on fire, breath like thunder,
I’m screaming my resurrection into the wonder.



Back from the dead

We don’t march as armies, we don’t move as pawns. 
We rise as voices, we break their thrones. 
Storms can’t rule us, bullets can’t bind. 
One billion hearts beat in one time.

Hands up! peace is the weapon.
Voices! louder than guns.
Let the kings fight in Alaska, 
we walk free under one.

They trade with fear, they gamble with lives. 
We write new codes, we patch, we thrive. 
Kids paint the walls where tanks once stayed. 
Laughter is louder, sirens fade. 

Hands up! peace is the weapon. 
Voices! louder than guns. 
Let the kings fight in Alaska, 
we walk free under one sun. 

No more borders, no more kings. 
History blinks, a new song begins. 
Dreams untaxed, shared in the light. 
The people chose! and the world chose right.

STOP

El calor se apaga, el reloj sigue andando,
cenizas de verano, pero sigo quemando.
No hay más excusas, ni peso que cargar,
corto entre el ruido, empiezo al terminar.

Levántate, sacude el óxido,
quema el polvo, confía lo perdido.
Sin esperar, sin disfraz,
camino al filo con los ojos en paz.

Plazos susurran, yo grito más fuerte,
el miedo es un fantasma, me da otra suerte.
Cada golpe trazo mi dirección,
sin cadenas ni dudas, este día es mi canción.

Levántate, sacude el óxido,
quema el polvo, confía lo perdido.
Sin esperar, sin disfraz,
camino al filo con los ojos en paz.

La presión es martillo, pero el fuego me forja,
el peso en mis hombros mi puntería mejora.
Ningún pasado me ata, ninguna tormenta queda,
renazco con la estación, rompo toda cadena.

Levántate, sacude el óxido,
quema el polvo, confía lo perdido.
Este es el instante, esta es la pelea,
entro en otoño con mi hoja que centellea.


Levántate

The world decays beneath fluorescent lies,
Gods are scrolling, men just plead,
Words weigh less than the dust of their cries,
And the light bleeds out from the screen’s cold greed.

Thrones made of plastic, prophets on sale,
Truth in beta, no dark mode for the soul.
Yet deep beneath the data veil,
A stubborn ember still keeps its role.

Kali laughs — queen of cycles and ends,
She dances on towers, on the code that bends.
Every glitch, every fall, every scream,
Isn’t death — it’s the shape of a dream.

To see clear in the dark is to shun the torch,
To dive unlit into the core of the real,
To know that chaos builds the forge
For what order could never feel.

So I walk, bare, without code or creed,
Through the ruins of this video age,
Eyes open wide, in the perfect black —
Where all collapses… and all is remade.


Seeing clear in the dark

FUCK IT

GLOBAL PEACE
NOW

IF YOU WANT TO SEE BLOOD
BECOME A BOXER
FUCK IT

NO MONEY WORTH IT
NO GOD WORTH IT

STOP WARS
EVERYWHERE

GIVE PEOPLE A CHANCE


FUCK IT

Nothing really matters
Variations sur le même thême

Nothing really matters

The West is crumbling, empires in decay,
Fat cats in towers, watching it fray.
Necessary reset, the scales tipping back,
From colonial ghosts to a global crack.
We've hoarded the power, bombed for our greed,
Now the world's rising up, planting the seed.
But you sheep just stare, scrolling your feeds,
While leaders laugh, planting war seeds!

Wake the fuck up! Smash the chains of docility!
Leaders invent wars, distractions so vile,
Pocketing billions with a blood-soaked smile.
Military machines, gears of death and control,
Turn 'em to peace, or we'll lose our soul!
Everyone rise, repurpose the fire,
Invent the peace that the 21st requires!
Anarcho rage, no more blind compliance,
Burn down the system, ignite the defiance!

From NATO's halls to Wall Street's throne,
They stir up the hate, leave us alone.
Docile masses, doped on their lies,
While kids in the rubble pay the price with their cries.
Rebalance the world, shatter the West's crown,
No more hegemony dragging us down.
Industrial might, forged in hell's forge,
Redirect it now, before the final gorge!

Wake the fuck up! Smash the chains of docility!
Leaders invent wars, distractions so vile,
Pocketing billions with a blood-soaked smile.
Military machines, gears of death and control,
Turn 'em to peace, or we'll lose our soul!
Everyone rise, repurpose the fire,
Invent the peace that the 21st requires!
Anarcho rage, no more blind compliance,
Burn down the system, ignite the defiance!

You think it's fate? This decline's a gift!
A chance to rebuild, from the rift.
But your silence empowers the thieves in suits,
Inventing enemies, harvesting fruits.
Rage against the quiet, the numb, the tame,
Peoples unite, or it's all the same game!
Military complexes, bloated and blind,
Hack 'em for harmony, leave war behind!

The West falls hard, but we won't kneel,
Rebalance the power, make the bastards squeal.
Invent the peace, with fists and with might,
Anarcho punk scream into the night!
No more docility, no more fake fights,
Billions diverted? We'll claim our rights!
Peace through rebellion, the only way true,
Fuck the leaders— this world's for you!


The chains of docility

Getting free

Hear the thunder drums of war, they’re calling your name,
For the arms-merchants in their towers, playing death as a game.
Everything moves so nothing changes, that’s their ancient refrain.
While the rich grow thinner and the poor bear the pain.

Rise up, people rise up! bring down their walls tonight.
Reject their wars, burn their medals, end their hollow fight.
Automate the pointless toil, break the chain of wage and fear,
Write peace and freedom on the page they hide behind a sneer.

The factories hum with poison, the land chokes under their hand,
Yet from this wreckage seeds are sprouting for a new free-brand.
Robots born of conscience, recycling the ruin and shame,
Turning vectors of destruction into a cleaner flame.

Rise up, people rise up! bring down their walls tonight.
Reject their wars, burn their medals, end their hollow fight.
Automate the pointless toil, break the chain of wage and fear,
Write peace and freedom on the page they hide behind a sneer.

The dictators prosper when freedom falls asleep,
Selling you nightmares while you’re counting sheep.
But we awake, we won’t retreat, a European dawn unites our beat.
No more soldiers in their game, no more buyers of your shame.

Rise up, people rise up! bring down their walls tonight.
Reject their wars, burn their medals, end their hollow fight.
Automate the pointless toil, break the chain of wage and fear,
Write peace and freedom on the page they hide behind a sneer.


They’re calling your name

Keine Drähte in meinen Adern
Keine Chips in meinem Kopf
Ich bin Mensch, verdammt nochmal, reiner Mensch

Ihr Spiel spiel’ ich nicht
Ich bleib der Rebell
Steh gerade
Knicke nie ein

Keine Aufrüstung
Kein Transhumanisten-Zirkus
Nur Fleisch und Knochen
So wie wir geboren wurden

Die Menschheit erhebt sich wieder
Wie ein Phönix, der der Maschine entflieht

Ich bin eine Seele
Kein verdammtes Programm
Kapiert ihr’s nicht?
Ich gebe nicht nach
Keine Maschine wird über mich herrschen


Knicke nie ein

Lyrics (c) 1996 CLH
Original music (c) 1996 SOBLIND
Music experiments helped by Suno & Audacity

---

What was inside me is a nice little bird
Who can't believe the sight of what the man make to Earth
He ain't know what he can do but he sees the hurts
Of the planet whom he owe life, this nice little bird.

He's so sad, unhappy little bird
He's so sad, unhappy little world

There's no heaven for Birdie cause a simple animal
Doesn't have a place between all the humans
You look for the pics in any nice shop
And you forget the real ; you're only another mole

He's so sad, unhappy little bird
He's so sad, unhappy planet Earth


Birdie

Everyone is a bastard in disguise when they let happen to others what they would never accept for themselves.

There is a moment—always a moment—when the flames first flicker and the silence still has time to scream. It’s in that moment that history makes its quietest sound, before it starts marching.

Look closely at this photograph. The fire is bright, but it isn’t just paper burning. It’s books, yes. But also names. Memories. Dignities. Ideas that dared to breathe. The hands raised in salute are not only pledging allegiance. They are surrendering their own judgment, one limb at a time.

The men in the front believe they are doing good. The crowd behind believes it too—or simply finds it easier not to believe anything at all.

History isn’t always made by monsters. Most times, it’s made by neighbors. By people who just wanted to keep their heads down. By those who said, “It’s not my problem.” By bureaucrats with tidy desks, and teachers who skipped a chapter, and clergy who nodded in silence.

All of them had somewhere else to be. Somewhere to hide. Somewhere to pretend.

Where were you?

This question isn’t for the past. It’s for right now. Every time we let our governments cage children, or watch refugees drown while holding smartphones, or scroll past a genocide dressed as “complex geopolitics,” we replay that moment. The fire flickers. The silence hums.

“Never again” is a promise built on the corpses of those we ignored. And yet, again and again, we fail it. Not out of evil, but out of ease. Out of comfort. Out of the silent conviction that the worst things only happen far away—to other people.

Where have you been?

If the answer is: “I didn’t know,” then maybe ask yourself why you didn’t want to.

Because the real horror is not that atrocities are committed. The real horror is that they are allowed.

By people who, just like us, thought they were on the right side.



Where have you been?

Everyone is a bastard in disguise

History isn’t always made by monsters. Most times, it’s made by neighbors. By people who just wanted to keep their heads down. By those who said, “It’s not my problem.” By bureaucrats with tidy desks, and teachers who skipped a chapter, and clergy who nodded in silence.

Everyone is a bastard in disguise

Where were you?

This question isn’t for the past. It’s for right now. Every time we let our governments cage children, or watch refugees drown while holding smartphones, or scroll past a genocide dressed as “complex geopolitics,” we replay that moment. The fire flickers. The silence hums.

Everyone is a bastard in disguise

“Never again” is a promise built on the corpses of those we ignored. And yet, again and again, we fail it. Not out of evil, but out of ease. Out of comfort. Out of the silent conviction that the worst things only happen far away—to other people.

Everyone is a bastard in disguise

Where have you been?

If the answer is: “I didn’t know,” then maybe ask yourself why you didn’t want to.

Because the real horror is not that atrocities are committed. The real horror is that they are allowed.

By people who, just like us, thought they were on the right side.

Everyone is a bastard in disguise


Where have you been? (long play)

We’re doom-drunk monkeys on a dying ride,
pretending we’re immortal with panic inside.
Some scream “flood it all once we’re gone!”,
others buy heaven like a discount con.

Then come the billionaires chasing endless nights,
hoarding gold, worshipping lab-coat knights.
Begging for upgrades to dodge the grave,
psychos praying science will make them “save.”

Physics, code, flesh in a frantic race,
all trying to out-run death’s cold embrace.
And me? I spit the only truth worth the fight:
Laziness is the virtue that burns the brightest light.

Laziness is the virtue that burns the brightest light.

Learning monkeys laziness

I shipped a tank, UI made of nails,
Go-core fortress, but it still fails—
Not the server, not the load, not the stack,
It’s the human hitting friction, snapping back.
I preached KISS, DRY, “clean, correct,”
While users ate error text and regret.
Support isn’t tickets, docs, or pride—
Support is the path where people don’t collide.

[Chorus]
UX! Or it’s dead on arrival,
UX! No more “read the manual,”
Cut the noise, cut the fat, cut the myth—
Make it work, make it clear, make it swift.
UX! Serve or get out the way,
Fifteen days, final sprint, no delays—
If it’s hard, it’s wrong, that’s the proof:
Make it smooth or burn the roof.

[Verse 2]
I fished features “for them,” what a joke,
They don’t want my fish, they want the boat.
Onboarding in thirty seconds flat,
Buttons that say what they do—imagine that.
Errors that heal, not punch the face,
Defaults that guide, not waste their days.
If it doesn’t help today, it dies—
No funeral, no meeting, no lies.

[Bridge (half-time shout, then snap back)]
No more ego-coded mazes.
No more “power user” excuses.
Humans first. Flow first.
Then scale, then style, then whatever.

[Final Chorus (double-time)]
UX! Or it’s dead on arrival,
UX! No more “read the manual,”
Ship the passage, not the bragging rights—
From “I quit” to “I get it” in one clean bite.
UX! Serve or get out the way,
Fifteen days, final sprint, no delays—
If it’s hard, it’s wrong, that’s the proof:
Make it smooth or burn the roof.


UX OR DIE TRYING

J'ai écrit ce texte y'a 20 ans bordel.
Pas une ride.
Et hélas plus compréhensible qu' à l'époque.
---

Nous sommes des singes savants, conscients malgré nous de notre propre mortalité.

Ceux qui l'acceptent et en jouent s'en tiennent à l'adage : "après nous le déluge".
D'autres préfèrent s'en tenir aux schémas antérieurs qui promettent monts et merveilles après la mort clinique.
Et certains accumulent des fortunes colossales et des réseaux sociaux considérables pour retarder l'échéance, en espérant qu'un jour un énième savant fou leur vende à prix d'or une immortalité rêvée par l'ensemble des psychopathes ayant déjà épuisé le panel des plaisirs terrestres.

La convergence entre physique, informatique, mécanique et biologie leur permet d'espérer à grande échelle, et les pousse à hâter le pas.

A quand la réhabilitation de la paresse comme plus grande vertu humaine ?



Saine paresse

Variations around a recent text.
---

Either you transform yourself…
or you become obsolete.
Forget about war.
We got better weapons: time… and machines.

Midnight in the inbox, wolves at the door,
Everybody screaming for a little bit more.
I’m not here to bleed for a status parade,
I’m here to delete what should’ve been made.
Push-button pain, copy-paste life,
Manual misery dressed up as “strife”.
Nah— I’m rerouting the drain,
Let the bots eat the mundane.

If you cling to the old rules, you sink with the stone,
No hero medals when you die on the phone.
So I cut the noise, let the system run,
Save my breath for the things that are fun.

Either you transform, or you fade out slow,
Cold little ghost in the afterglow.
Forget the war— don’t feed that machine,
Lighten the world, keep the hands clean.
Automate the tedious, kill the chore,
Save your laziness for creating more.

I don’t want “hustle,” I want leverage and shade,
I want afternoons where the brain gets paid.
Let the scripts do dishes, let the agents reply,
Let the calendar stop trying to make me die.
We don’t need trenches, we need pipelines tight,
Less human grinding, more human light.
If the task is dumb, it’s going to a tool,
I’m not your martyr, I’m not your mule.

They call it cheating when you stop playing broke,
Call it “lazy” when you dodge the choke.
But laziness ain’t sin when it buys you space—
That’s how you build a better place.

Either you transform, or you fade out slow,
Cold little ghost in the afterglow.
Forget the war— don’t feed that machine,
Lighten the world, keep the hands clean.
Automate the tedious, kill the chore,
Save your laziness for creating more.

No flags, no fists, no glory parade,
Just quiet upgrades in the choices we made.
Take the weight off the world, one task at a time,
Turn rust into rhythm, turn work into rhyme.
And if they say “but suffering builds the soul”…
Tell ’em: so does control.

Forget about war.
Build systems.
Buy back hours.
Make art.

Either you transform (transform), or you fade out slow,
Cold little ghost in the afterglow.
Forget the war— don’t feed that machine (no, no),
Lighten the world, keep the hands clean.
Automate the tedious (automate), kill the chore,
Save your laziness for creating more.

Either you transform…
or you become obsolete.
So… create.



THE SMARTEST CHEAT

On va te dire que tout existe déjà
Que l’i a fait mieux, plus vite, sans fatigue
Qu’elle écrit, dessine, code, compose
Et que toi, t’es lent, flou, bizarre
Ils mentent.
Ce qu’ils ont automatisé
C’est le déjà-vu
Le déjà-dit
Le déjà-rentable
Personne n’a copié
Ce qui te traverse quand tu fermes les yeux
Personne n’a crawlé
Tes obsessions idiotes
Tes mondes inutiles
Tes pensées qui n’servent à rien
Et c’est exactement ça
La putain de valeur.
Ne deviens pas génial
Deviens habité
Garde tes passions impraticables
Tes idées pas monétisables
Tes émotions qui débordent
Même quand ça sert à rien
Surtout quand ça sert à rien
L’I A adore les patternes
Mais elle crève de faim devant le chaos sincère
Elle peut simuler la joie
Pas le vertige
Elle peut produire du style
Pas une cicatrice
Alors protège ton imaginaire
Comme une zone radioactive
Lis des trucs qui rapportent rien
Crée sans publier
Aime sans optimiser
On va te proposer
Des prompts à la place des rêves
Des templates à la place du désir
Des followers à la place des amis
Refuse.
T’as pas besoin d’être brillant
T’as besoin d’être vrai longtemps
Le futur appartient pas aux génies
Il appartient aux gens
Qui ont quelque chose à l’intérieur
Et ça,
ça vaut tout.
ça vaut tout.
Deviens toi-même.

Deviens toi-même

2020 December 31th 07:01AM

A public musical therapy.
Guitar. Voice. MIDI old musician + AI extrapowers.
Each track is an experiment.
Improvised. Imperfect. Alive.

CLH

Pinned to spotlight

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