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)

Second romance of the Mabinogion – Peredur Son of Efrawg
Raised in isolation, Peredur leaves home to become a knight, stumbling into a world of surreal visions and unspoken truths. When he witnesses a procession of a bleeding lance and severed head but fails to ask their meaning, he prolongs the land’s suffering. Only through a journey of symbolic trials does he learn to see, to question, and to heal both land and self.

She left to lose herself—but something found her first. A psychedelic vision cracks her world open, and what follows is fire, silence, and transformation. Guided by riddles, shadows, and strange kindness, she descends through dream and grief to unearth her truest shape. Not a warrior. Not a savior. Just a girl who finally asked the right question. The bell rang. The door opened. She did not return home. She became one.

She packed silk, not questions.
Took flights to forget that she'd never asked why the sky bends blue.
The villa was loud. The sea, a screen.
They drank by fountains carved by kings who never learned to cry.

The court was teeth behind smiles.
And the fire hadn’t started yet.
But it was there—coiled in her, waiting. 
A match remembering it’s born of thunder.
She didn’t know then.

But when the bell breaks—you do.

She left the states with glitter eyes,
Daddy's AmEx, tailored lies.
Villa booked, the coastline soft
white-gold sand and Aperol cough.
Said it was a sabbatical, soul-search light
really just running from suburban night.
Friends all sharp, dressed in heat,
glossed in glamour, perfect deceit.
She laughed too loud, drank too fast, 
threw her name into the sea like glass.
They danced in ruins older than blame, 
chanted names they’d never claim.
But then—a party deep in the olive shade, 
someone passed a little blade.
Tiny tab, no big deal, just some acid to break the seal.

But oh—the vision bled.The sky ripped red.
And the war came down where the dream had fed.
She saw a flag that tore itself,
a rattle snake on liberty’s shelf.
Bald eagle wept, then ripped its wing,
fed it to the bell that would not ring.
And the snake—devoured itself in golden rings.

Three times the bell chimes low,
and none of us know what we know.
She saw the war, she saw the wheel
and woke to find it might be real.
The vision burned but left no mark
just silence echoing in the dark.

She ghosted the crew, let the group chat die,
Walked cobbled alleys without goodbye.
Windows blinked with laundry and dusk,
Old men smoked in corners of musk.
She followed a sparrow through rain-slick stone
To a crumbling cafe half overgrown.
Inside: chipped china, a crooked grin,
A server said, "Sit. We begin."
They wore time like a second skin
Age and youth coiled deep within.

They spoke in riddles, jokes with teeth,
Said, "You saw the lance beneath the wreath.
Not all snakes bite. Some shed instead.
Not all gods wear gold on their head."

She told of the eagle, the vision, the sting
The server just hummed like a cello string.
Talked of trees with roots in stars,
Mirrors shaped like prison bars.
She listened hard, her skin turned flame,
Her name forgot its Western name.
And the heat grew strong, too much to stand
The serpent coiled in her shaking hands.

"The fire you fear is your first light.
Don’t run from it—let it write.
This isn’t madness, child, or fate.
This is the door. Step through the gate."

She burned but didn’t break that day,
In tongues of light and shadow play.
The waitress grinned with many eyes,
And whispered through her future lies:
"You are not sick. You are not shame.
You are becoming. Speak your name."

That night she dropped into endless sleep,
Dream-walked cliffs too sharp to keep.
Nine doors opened, each with a face,
Each her, but twisted, out of place.
One with knives for teeth and blame,
One in lace who whispered shame.
One who laughed at every prayer,
One with silence braided in her hair.

When the Bell Breaks

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

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When the Bell Breaks

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