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

Yellow are my Springtime days
Yellow in so many ways

Yellow my sweet Primrose head
As it peeps from its green bed
Yellow the Welsh Daffodil
Blooming o'er the vale and hill

pastry flakes on morning lips, tide lines on our shins,
tenby roofs like pocket sweets, gulls that draw their pins.
we are two small orbits near, bright and never fused,
salt on sleeves, a paper bag, kindness not abused.
peter laughs and takes the tea, steam like braided light,
we are easy, we are near, still apart a bite.

shells are little listening bowls, i hold one to your ear,
hear the far and hear the near, both are somehow here.

lift your wandering feet, let them roam, leave your house to come home.
home, home, home to be, home made by you and me.

we circle soft, we do not bruise,

we choose and choose and choose.

cornish light is lemon-warm, quiet on the bone,
small beds, small hands, windows open, everyone half-grown.
litha night, the matches wait, pastry sugar stars,
peter tells a folded tale, we listen through the bars.
piggyback tired, freckles rise, sand in every seam,
we are stitched to separate skies, meeting in a dream.

i name a flower princess, yellow crown that sings,
daffodil in cornwall wind, bright and gentle things.

Yellow sunshine filters through
Glistens on the morning dew
Little Aconites appear
Welcoming a New Year
Gorse so golden guards the wood
Snapdragon nod their yellow hood

lift your wandering feet, let them roam, leave your house to come home.
home, home, home to be, home made by you and me.

shoreline draws the chalk and foam,

we read it like a poem.

we are lanterns on a cliff, close and not the same,
names like stones in shallow pools, warm when called by name.
i reach and you are nearly there, near enough to know,
love is in the turning toward, not the final sew.

i wave, you wave, the waves they say, not yet, but carry on,
the sun puts butter on the sea, and all the ache is gone.

tenby, cornwall, two bright mouths, one long tide between,
pastries, salt, a paper crown, summer on the green.
peter, you, and me in twos, circles small and kind,
horizon is a soft blue line we practice with the mind.

i keep a shell, you keep the tea, we keep the sunny crumb,
when we cannot touch at once, we hum and hum and hum.

lift your wandering feet, let them roam, leave your house to come home.
home, home, home to be, home made by you and me.

if we circle and never bruise,

we still can choose and choose.

home is where the turning slows,
home is where the wild light grows.

Changing seasons
Cold or mellow

None I love as you,
My little daffodil,
Springtime yellow.

horizon of home

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horizon of home

Dancing salamanders

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