Don't Care

Fuzziekiss & THEHOMEBOIII - Don't Care

y u so me4n

eyes open before i go (prod.shadow)

The air hums low with whispers of thought,
A canvas stretched, her brushlines caught.
The café buzzes, but she’s somewhere far,
Lost in a world where symbols are stars.

"What stories linger in the curve of her hand?
What secrets unfold in the lines she’s planned?"

Her brush moves slow, like a dancer’s grace,
Tracing a serpent with a human face.
The sun and moon, a union bold,
Bound by chains of silver and gold.

"What does it mean, the dragon’s tongue?
The wheel that turns where the stars are hung?"

"It’s the circle of time, the world own game,
The search for truth, for a hidden flame."

Through the twelve gates, where the riddles gleam,
A sacred path, a golden dream.
Lead to silver, silver to gold,
The right and perfect meanes unfold.

The colors shift as the story grows,
A phoenix rises where the poppy blows.
She tilts her head, the brush held tight,
"It’s the ashes reborn in the fire’s light."

"And what of the stone, the one they seek?
Does it live in this scroll, in words they speak?"

"The stone’s not found in the gold they crave,
It’s the heart that loves, the soul that’s brave."

Through the twelve gates, where the symbols play,
A sacred science to light the way.
Lead to silver, silver to gold,
The right and perfectest meanes retold.

Her eyes alight with the fire she stokes,
A story lives in the art she evokes.
The serpent coils where the eagle flies,
An ouroboros of infinite ties.

"She paints a world where the broken mend,
A map of hope, where circles end."

"Are you lost in thought, or lost in me?
The symbols speak if you choose to see."

The dragon breathes, the phoenix sings,
The cycle turns where the fire clings.
"We’re all brave, in our own way,
Turning grief to light, to find the day."

"And you, the artist, the keeper of dreams,
Show me the truth in these gilded streams."

She hands him the brush, his fingers still,
"Add your mark, wherever you will."
He draws a line, where the rivers meet,
A quiet echo, soft and sweet.

"You’ve gilded the stream with a silver gleam,
Now it’s part of our daring dream."

"Together we build what the world can’t see,
A map of hope, a legacy."

Through the twelve gates, where the secrets hide,
A sacred path where love abides.
Lead to silver, silver to gold,
The right and perfectest meanes unfold.

The brush lays down, the colors blend,
The story told, yet it won’t end.
In every mark, a piece of flame,
The right and perfectest meanes remain.

The Right and Perfectest Meanes

inside?

Yeah, Im Flexin

with me (ft. xykho)

Så lunka vi så småningom
Från Bacchi buller och tumult,
När döden ropar, Granne kom,
Ditt timglas är nu fullt.
Du Gubbe fäll din krycka ner,
Och du, du Yngling, lyd min lag,
Den skönsta Nymf som åt dig ler
Inunder armen tag.

First up, mate on the 3:12 train,
Rain on the window, steams up the pane.
Slumped in his hoodie, boots untied,
Dreams of a holiday, budget denied.
Calendar packed, phone battery dead,
But still he smiles, lifts up his head.
Life ain’t perfect, but hear what I say—
Breathe deep, love, it’s just another day.

Tycker du att dagen är för lång,
Trångt kontor och dresscode tvång
nå, välan än så hör då denna sång.
ta dig sen dito en, dito två, dito tre,
så går det lättare.

See her there, oat latte and toast,
Posting her brekkie, “I love me” post.
Ring light halo, filter glow,
Underneath it all, she’s just tryna grow.
Swaps her heels for battered flats,
Walks home alone past streetlamp splats.
Café philosophers, heart on sleeve,
Little sips of courage before she leaves.

You ever feel that weight?
Like you’re carrying sky bricks in a Tesco bag?
Same, mate. Keep walking.

Tycker du att världen känns för stor,
nå, välan så spring från storebror,
ta dig sen dito en, dito två, dito tre,
så går det lättare.

Old gent down the allotment rows,
Whispers to his tomatoes as they grow.
Wool cap, flask, Radio Wales hum,
Weather app says rain but the sun’s still come.
He lost someone once, don’t talk much,
Tends the soil with a gentle touch.
Weeds or wildflowers? Who’s to say?
All of us bloom in our own weird way.

Young lad skint, pockets all bare,
Friday pint ‘cos he still don’t care.
Mates on the WhatsApp, banter’s alive,
Takes the long route home just to survive.
Council flat lights, moon on the wall,
Swears at the stars but forgives them all.
Life ain’t golden, but still it’s bright,
Even cold chips taste good at midnight.

Tycker du att skatten är för hög,
Lön som aldrig dög, hela livet sög
nå, välan ta så chill drill, puff puff pass
ta dig sen dito en, dito två, dito tre,
så går det lättare, ser du de?

Parent at 4AM, bleary-eyed stare,
Rocking the baby, whispered prayer.
Milk-stained T-shirt, “We’re alright, yeah?”
Heartbeat lullaby fills the air.
One day they’ll grow, dance on their own,
But tonight you’re together, safe, homegrown.
Lean into the moment, don’t rush through,
Even messy love is the purest true.

Tycker du att natten är för lång,
Mata, byta, gång på gång.
nå, välan ta dig då en stund,
ta dig sen dito en, dito två, dito tre,
så hittar du tillbaka till dig själv lättare.

Säg är du nöjd? min granne säg,
Så prisa värden nu till slut;
Om vi ha en och samma väg,
Så följoms åt; drick ut.
Men först med vinet rött och vitt,
För vår Värdinna bugom oss,
Och halkom sen i graven fritt,
Vid aftonstjärnans bloss.

Song for dinner

Fazekas x 8jaxx - What I want

Vogue

Hmm, hmm, hmm
breathe in the circle until the circle thins

Bootprints in clay make cursive spirals, not streets,
bracken keeps count in a language of pleats.
Wind turns the crown, rain weighs the limb,
sap climbs a ladder in the gray morning brim.
Somewhere inside the whirl is a pin,
a plumb that refuses to spin.
I walk until walking forgets to pretend,
I stand where the wheel remembers its end.
Snake in the loam flicks silver at heel,
shows me the spine of the hill like a keel.
I listen for quiet that does not recede,
I listen for center, for seed.

ragged roots, muddy boots, with the snake I find myself in cahoots

go then, if you will, to the stem of Yggdrasil

fill then if you will, a vial of clear distil

let it sit, soft and still

let it sit, soft and still, back to ragged roots, muddy boots

Branch rings keep years like coins in a tin,
storm after storm and the pith holds thin.
Scent of dawn, reduce and refine,
one clear drop from the leaf to the line.
Tongue learns the mineral names of the ground,
thumb learns the grain where answers are found.
Not every question deserves the same key,
some open inward by simply to be.
Snake draws a circle so patient and low,
shows me the center that chooses to grow.
I set down the hurry, I shoulder the skill,
to pour and not spill.

ragged roots, muddy boots, oath with serpent’s quiet truth.

go then, if you will, to the stem of Yggdrasil.

fill then if you will, this vial with calm and will

let it sit, soft and still

let it sit, soft and still, back to ragged roots, muddy boots

Axis, access, center that holds,
spoke to the hub where the turning folds.
Heart like a compass set level and true,
needle finds north by learning to be through.

Low hum, slow drum, bright thread, bright crumb.

I do not chase the edge of the reel,
I learn the art of standing to feel.

Here is the trunk with its starward intent,
here is the rootwork reading the bent.
I pour what is bitter through gravel and silt,
what clears in the bottle begins to be built.
The loop is a river that circles the bay,
the still is the inlet where waters can stay.
I lean on the midrib and soften the jaw,
snake curls a bracelet around what I saw.
World keeps its motion, I keep my quill,
I write from the center until I am still.

ragged roots, muddy boots, with the snake I find myself in cahoots

go then, if you will, to the stem of Yggdrasil

fill then if you will, a vial of clear distil

let it sit, soft and still

let it sit, soft and still, back to ragged roots, muddy boots, we will

sip the clear, keep the core,
let the ring count what rings are for.

hmm, hmm, hmm

a distil of yggdrasil

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a distil of yggdrasil

Dancing salamanders

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