They say you never go back to the same place. I say you also never return to the same song. And if you do, you end up finding another shadow among jasmine. That’s what happens in Espiral: it starts in a garden where memory trips over your name and ends with an invisible embrace that leaves you shaking, both warm and cold at the same time.

There’s a place in Entre tus sombras y jazmín where everything is shy and sweet: time falls like dry leaves on an old tablecloth, the sun hides behind your eyes, and me, not sure if I’m singing or whispering, I keep my name safe in your garden. And there I stay, because leaving would mean getting lost.

Then, in Te hablé en silencio, one realizes talking doesn’t help. Better to whisper, stay in the mist, and make yourself invisible so you get seen anyway. It’s a cheap magic trick: being flower, seed, and spring without anyone noticing. Sad part: the other side has forgotten; beautiful part: you still wait, because waiting is what you do, even if it hurts, even if it’s ridiculous.

Next comes Lo que elegí, which has nothing heroic about it: walking through a desert is boring, dirty, and slow, and the stones don’t applaud. One wonders if someone is watching from afar —sure they are— and if they’re throwing shadows at you. Doesn’t matter. What matters is knowing that time drags everything, even your dumbest decisions, and that you leave traces without asking permission.

Then the coyote appears in Danza del coyote, a lovable son of a gun: breaks the order, makes you laugh, screams, and makes you realize that peace isn’t sleeping, it’s dancing over embers without burning too badly. A blind master of ceremonies: breaks you, rebuilds you, and makes you sing with throat and heart, even if you don’t know what you’re saying.

Then comes Lógica de Sol, and logic doesn’t matter. The sun doesn’t charge, doesn’t demand, doesn’t lie. You sing, you dance, you burn fears and applaud the tenderness whispering everywhere. No altars, no dictators; just a little light scratching your back, telling you everything’s fine, even if it’s not.

La Bicicleta, the bycicle: when you don’t know if you’re coming or going, but you pedal, and the world spins with you. Your body moves, wind slaps your face, and suddenly everything seems simple. Simple and extraordinary, like life itself.

Círculo Polar is the ending that feels like a beginning: cold, crystalline, icy blue. The soul purifies, sees its reflection in the ice. Contemplation calms the tremors, and the mind plunges into the quiet that precedes the end of the cycle.

Finally, Abrazo, the instrumental, closes the journey with a silent gesture: an embrace containing everything lived. No words, just resonance. Everything condenses here: memory, pain, light, shadow. The spiral closes, yet keeps spinning, because experiencing time is infinite.

In the end, Espiral isn’t an album. It’s a diary of inner adventures where you laugh, fall, get up, and ask yourself why the hell we keep listening to songs that make us tremble while time keeps falling like dry leaves.

Círculo polar

sad and beautiful from the genius Peter Green 

Man of the world.m4a

Mad world.m4a

(prod. @nadiakuk)

and they say that its gonna better but it never does
so i sit there and i start to wither as i turn to dust (x4)

and all i know, no matter where we go

lets keep track of time and try to take things slow (x2)

lets not get caught up in all the things so low (x2)

and they say, that its gonna better but it never does
so i sit there and i start to wither as i turn to dust (x2)

as i turn to dust (prod. nadiak)

wraith - i'm already there Ft. Deadbeatteen (prod. Harvest & Killedmyself)

everybody got a say
everybody know the way
start to get some numbers
think they popping 
no you aint 
it don’t make your music great
it don’t change a fuckin thing
im the most bitter fucking prick
aint no god damn stchick 
wanting all the success
without putting work in
do you think im fuckin stupid
i can tell the real
from the fake
quicker than you hit me up
fucking useless

i can’t promise fucking anything
but ill garuntee i aint gonna quit
stay rapping till im 
out of it
you’ll have to bury me before i stop this
i owe my parents so much shit
they the reason i haven’t
seen a grave
allowing me to 
follow my dreams
i hope one day i can 
repay them for everything 

cop a ounce
only lasts about
two weeks
burn holes in my
longsleeves
and my favorite 
fuckin t
they say barren
can you go back and
do that old shit
im like when the fuck
did i even fuckin stop that
you don’t want that
the shit im bringing
to the table you can’t top that
i know you want that
my fuckin skill set
but maybe sit back for 
a second and just
take it all in

i can’t promise fucking anything
but ill garuntee i aint gonna quit
stay rapping till im 
out of it
you’ll have to bury me before i stop this
i owe my parents so much shit
they the reason i haven’t
seen a grave
allowing me to 
follow my dreams
i hope one day i can 
repay them for everything

cant promise anything (prod ʎpoqou)

wraith - theres a reason we no longer speak

wraith - attempting to have a conversation with the ceiling

wraith - tortured soul

wraith - i shouldve stayed in bed

02. i dont mind

tried gathering all of wraiths songs and putting it in order. if wraith ever finds this page, message me on pm <3 i miss you man. i talked to you a couple times on snapchat. hope everything is good for you.

wraith - i shouldve stayed in bed

graveyardwraith archive

Related tracks