Name: Good Old Days by Pete Neone in Tracce simili: WITH LOVE , JUNO
Duration: 4 min 10 s
Description: I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days, before you've actually left them...

Tracce simili: WITH LOVE , JUNO

Game ON, like its 1984! Enjoy! ;-)

Buy on BC: https://madmaverick.bandcamp.com/track/level-up

Mad Maverick - Level Up!

synths and music by: Sandro and Diana

gear used:
Roland Jupiter 8
Roland Juno 60
Roland SH-101
Roland JD-990
Korg M1

software:
Reason 7
Logic
Cubase
and several VSTs

children playing sample: Maniac Cop

links:
http://soundcloud.com/diana-gitallog
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Diana-Gitallog/140607419427366
http://soundcloud.com/pacificotunes
https://www.facebook.com/pacificotunes

get the compilation here: http://retropromenade.bandcamp.com/

Diana Gitallog & Pacifico - Snowy Palms

With A Gun

Jordan F - SoBe (Flashworx Remix)

Written by The Blue Book Project
Mixed by Francesco Campolo
Mastered by Santiago Mastering
Released by Blue Book Records
Artwork by Hussein Retrodesign80

Almost Human

"You leave anything for us?" "Just bodies."

Colonel John Matrix

WITH LOVE , JUNO

I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days, before you've actually left them...

Good Old Days

The unwinding

Sundown

Story by B. Hursell

If they’re not eating you, it’s because they’re not hungry. Proto-Alpha-One.
If they’re not eating you, it’s because they’re not hungry.
Proto-Alpha-Em.
If they’re not eating you, it’s because they’re not hungry.
Busted limbs and oiled urns. Good night, Julie Bath.
Theta and Delta, Ominous under sheets of rain, Ominous, sometimes on horseback Carrying
spears, garlands of tendons, Or plans and blueprints, Or poison daggers, tainted water, And the
blue halos of diner glass, Puddings and wreathes of extraterrestrial flowers. Kissing in
moonlight, in paper funerals And electric streets and dives. Oils burn blue and green Under
sheets of holy skin, virgin skin.
He was a protege of Freud, But before that, He attended Seminary School With the I-5 Killer,
And everyone he encountered Contracted a touch of paranoia, And wept blood from their
Microbond Ports.
She wept slow tears for the jittery, miniature, Shackled Corpse in the attic. Her coffee was
glowing With the beating wings of the holy legions And the nuclear throat of heaven’s chorus.
She mourned her husband.
Tunica intima.
Tunica media.
Tunica externa.
Shirley oiled herself for war. Televisions had gone silent, But not the one in her dreams,
Ancient, electric fire- And on their backs, On their ankles and breasts, A vision in the shape of a
human…dressing quiet in the other room, Careful not to wake the troops. Thirsty for the
ambush. Long stemmed, cruel vines Crept along every edge Of every raging mass Of tissue in
her body. Rejoice!! On microscopic levels, Adrift in the tides of her warm Pink blood: Lay
Legions. Spurting the blessed. His feet, calves, and knees moved Ahead of the rest of his body.
He had already grabbed the keys. They were on the move now. He had taken everything they
needed, Dressed in rare fabrics, They did everything they could to become…free of it. They did
everything they could To ignore their appetite for carrion.
She creamed her regurgitations With oil paints and sage leaves. Preparing for the grand
ceremony, Muscles lean and tight mind. Monkery of flora, sunbursts, And nuclear baths.
Valentina- Cage of the Beast.
Shout The morning Bells of capillaries Circuitry of shrines And nude demons.

Saplings that blanket Flesh Faithful Gorged with the sweat and promises Of legions, of codes.
Oh, holy torture Riding on horseback.
Peddlers of infamy Go into the crowded streets, The markets, And collect the cemetery dust
From their pockets and their palms And their cuffs.
Spidery branches moan In autumn wind. Cakes of intestines at her doorstep. Bacterium in the
honey A drowsy guardsmen With lanterns and bells.
Streamers of blood Seasons of robotic afterbirth Orange glow of burnt sashes wrapped around
her ribs.
The orchestra warms it’s chilly breath And mutters Lap dogs And turning knots of scars.
She made a speech before coming to rest, The installation of the corpse queen. Feast, oh
children of the sea On the coming of death And the serpents of despair.
I lay sheets of woven grass On my lap And wait for the morning hunting party.
Steel jaws rejoice The end has come And I have designed for you Healthy catacombs.
Dinner plates, tablecloths, chains, and tea sets. Antiquarian lust, bookends, electric chairs, and
horsehair Fog and fire.
For twelve days and nights, I can tell you about it, I spent time roaming the halls And devouring
its offerings.
(For each day, there were three sunrises and three sunsets, three moonrises and three
moonsets).
We had sweet coffee and moonshine And we smoked
And I talked to Hugo for hours.
He had plans.
He wanted to make a machine to feed things to. He had briefcase after briefcase of drawings
and ideas He wanted to know how to make guts without flesh I told him I had no idea but I
would look into it What else could I say?
He wasn’t the only strange character that I encountered As I investigated This palace, All of it,
is beyond time and space.

TUNICA EXTERNA (Story by B. Hursell)

There is our track called "Bright Lights" for now is our favorite track because we love this genre. Follow us! <3

Bright Lights

Remedy (Purple_)

Never Coming Back

"Time is of the essence… Every second could be your last. 
Embrace this Tension and seize the day. What have you got to lose?"

https://timeslaves.bandcamp.com/album/tension

Tension

Dawn

Find the non shit quality version on Bandcamp and Spotify.

SFERRO - STARGAZER (2019)

If you are one of those who seek the 80's nostalgia with a pinch of modern flavor, welcome. You are in the right place...

Good Old Days

Pete Neone

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