Strangers

"Sliding Down The Hill" is the fifth single released by Francis Doom, off of the upcoming full length album, "I Caught A Light," set for release on March 8, 2024.

I Caught A Light

Sliding Down The HIll

04 mitc x kotn - better grinded

Produced By: Harley

Album Cover: Andy R Animations

Feeling Something Good

Sugar

FindLove

Beya

pour some more

pour some more (prod. grayskies)

All The Pretty Flowers Gone

[Verse]
Drifting through the night
Searching for a sign
Lost in the moonlight
My soul left behind
Melodies in my head
Spinning 'round like a dream
In this psychedelic haze
Everything's not what it seems

[Verse 2]
Whispers in the air
Secrets in the night
Aching for a love that feels so right
Dancing through the shadows
Chasing after stars
In this lo-fi indie-pop
We forget about our scars

[Chorus]
Lost in the moonlight
We find our way
Soulful serenades
Take us to a different place
In this dreamy paradise
We're never alone
In this psychedelic world
We find a love unknown

Lost

Based on H.P. Lovecraft's poem "Festival", which was published in Weird Tales, 8, No. 6 (December 1926), 846 as “Yule Horror”.

The song was created with the help of Generative AI (Udio.com)

Lyrics:

There is snow on the ground,
And the valleys are cold,
And a midnight profound
Blackly squats over the wold;
But a light on the hilltops half-seen hints of
feastings unhallowed and old.

There is dread in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For the gone in their shrouds
Hail the sun's turning flight.
And chant wild in the woods as they dance
round a Yule-altar fungous and white.

To no gale of Earth's kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the thick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these powers are the powers of the dark,
from the crypts of the lost Druid-folk.

There is dread in the clouds,
There is fear in the night,
For the gone in their shrouds
Hail the sun's turning flight.
And chant wild in the woods as they dance
round a Yule-altar fungous and white.

To no gale 
To no gale of Earth's kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the thick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these powers are the powers of the dark,
from the crypts of the lost Druid-folk.

To no gale of Earth's kind
Sways the forest of oak,
Where the thick boughs entwined
By mad mistletoes choke,
For these powers are the powers of the dark,
from the graves of the lost Druid-folk.

Beya

gabriel de la tortilla

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