Ahh, Ahh, Ahh

When I was young
It seemed that life was so wonderful
Oh, a miracle
Oh, it was beautiful, magical

And all the birds in the trees
Well, they were singing so happily
J-j-j-joyfully
Oh, playfully watching me

But-But-But-But-But-But then they sent me away
To teach me how to be sensible
L-l-l-logical
Oh, responsible, practical

And then they showed me a world
Where I could be dependable
C-c-c-clinical
Oh, intellectual, cynical

There are times
When all the world's asleep
The questions run too deep
For such a simple man

Won't you please
Please tell me what we've learned?
I know it sounds absurd
But please tell me who I am

Now watch what you say
Or they'll be calling you a radical
A l-l-liberal
Oh, fanatical, criminal

Oh, won't you sign up your name?
We'd like to feel you're acceptable
R-r-respectable
Oh, presentable, a vegetable
Take it, take it, take it, yeah!

But at night
When all the world's asleep
The questions run so deep
For such a simple man

Won't you please
Please tell me what we've learned?
I know it sounds absurd
But please tell me who I am
Who I am
Who I am
Who I am

L-l-l-l-l-l-logical!

C-c-c-criminal!

R-r-r-r-r-respectable!

Ooh!

Oh, Logical, oh!

Logical Song - Mindless Self Indulgence (Cover)

Digital Heretic marks the 45th chapter in the PulseMeld project — a culmination of rage, resistance, and raw industrial expression.

This 12-track assault peels back the digital skin of modern life and spits in the face of algorithmic obedience. It's the sound of wires screaming, of cracked mirrors reflecting what we've become — and what we refuse to be.

“I was born with a firewall halo.”
— Digital Heretic

Tracks like “You Are My Zombie”, “Cemetery Wifi”, and “Your Utopia Not Mine” pulse with sarcasm, venom, and deliberate chaos. Elsewhere, the devastating crawl of “Bury Me With Hate” and the warped euphoria of “Black Mirror Ball” linger like a virus in the bloodstream.

No genre cages, no apologies.
This is PulseMeld at its most unapologetic, unfiltered, and electrified.

🩸 For the heretics, the glitched-out souls, and the wired ones who never fit in — this is your cathedral of distortion.

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EURINGER