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

un, dau, tri, pedwar… pump, chwech, saith, wyth, naw, deg.
Never was a thread
so bold and so strong
to let the truth behold
of what is right and wrong

Loom of a morning, shuttle of light,
vowen spun oaths through a fingertip night.
Mercury mind and a salt-sweet tongue,
sulfur of song where the gold was young.
Thread over threshold, hush on the sill,
cup in a saucer, a small steady will.
I pinch one filament out of the air,
nurse it to music, and mend by repair.
If silence grows antlers and stands in the door,
I comb its mane with the map of before.
If doubt puts a nail through the noon-blue wood,
I press my ear to the grain, still good.

String the strung, vowen spun, silent salt, a golden sun;
sang a song, surely sung, all in time by everyone.
By her, by him, maybe you, truths I wished you always knew;
if you won’t, and stillness blooms, I tune this thread and name her, beautiful.

un, dau, tri…

Spindle of patience, wheel of a prayer,
orbit of teacup, a planet of care.
Ash into ember, and ember to wine,
I rinse the dark with a lemon of shine.
Needle of listening, ear to the seam,
stitching the rip in the edge of a dream.
A vow is a vowel you never quite say,
a mouthful of bright you keep for the day.
If grief is a kiln and my ribcage its dome,
I lay soft clay where the cracks might roam.
If rage is a wolf with a wintering jaw,
I teach it to sit with a biscuit of awe.

String what’s strung, sing what’s sung, salt on skin and gold on tongue;
round we run, one by one, turning time until it’s won.
By her, by him, maybe you, things I sew in breath and dew;
if you close the knowing’s door, I tune this thread and bless her, beautiful.

un, dau, tri, pedwar, pump…
Fretless the line and the line isn’t lost,
knot after knot is a mercy that costs.
Copper and cotton, a wrist and a ring,
I temper the tremor and teach it to sing.

House made of breath, and a bell made of steam,
crown of a moment that learned how to dream.
Silver of silence, a lantern of bone,
light in the pocket you thought was a stone.
Here is the spindle, and here is the spool,
here is the hand that remembers the rule:
what you can cradle you also release,
grace is a loop that is learning its peace.
I set down the needle, I lift up the cup,
I circle the rim till the halo shows up.
What I can’t carry, I carry in kind,
a thimble of quiet, a saffron of mind.

String the strung, vowen spun, salt that sings and patient sun;
sang a song, surely sung, gathered breath by everyone.
By her, by him, even you, things I longed to usher through;
when you go all still and full, I tune this thread and know her, beautiful.

wyth, naw, deg… hush hums the rung;
Of everything beyond this bond is bilk
cause it’s not just a thread of silk
If night unspools and the day is dull,
I knot one word to the edge, beautiful.

tuning the thread

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tuning the thread

Dancing salamanders

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