my love for thee, 
an anguished aught,
of what MUST be,
and yet Is not,

my love for thee,
the place where thought,
unravels me,
 in cloying clot,

so all my strings are set to strum,
in this place where we become,

here I'll wait...

my love for thee,
the sweetest scar,
a molting light,
a mourning star,

my little Lie-a-lot,
I still cry a lot,
I STILL cry for you...
...I do,

so all my strings are set to strum,
in this place where we become,

here I'll wait...

My little Lie-a-Lot

Singer/Songwriter from the U.S. living in California. I first started busking in San Francisco's Tenderloin district and there I met a homeless man who called himself Sunshine Bear. He had a dog, a beaten down guitar, and a shopping cart filled with food for his dog and himself. I sat down with my guitar, we shared food and we played music together off Union Square. I kept seeing him day by day and playing music with him sharing money we made and food and after sometime he had heard a few of my songs. He told me "You know you're music is really unique like psychotic but poppy, its like dark psychopath pop!"
         Every since that day that's exactly how I would describe my music. When I played gigs or busked in Austin people would ask me to label myself, I would say "I'm like a much sadder meaner Jack Johnson."
              I live in the East Bay (Oakland, CA) Area now. If anyone reading knows the music scene here on the East Bay or Bay Area shoot me a message and let me know whats up. Anything like if you know good spots, venues, mangers, booking people, ect. If anybody playing music or producing it wants to collaborate let me know! I'm not online all the time but I will try to respond as soon as I can. To all the other musicians out there and around the world playing in different genre's I want to say keep making music. Labels are for the birds so just keep playing from the heart and you'll catch someone's attention. Even if it's just one person patting you on the back, if music is your passion its worth it. 
 Over and Out.


Magdalena Mirror was a saint and a seer,
 and a sin-eating scapegoat divine,
 for her sickness brought health and her need it brought wealth,
 and her love?... it brought never you mind,

With her mind over matters and her torn blessed tatters, 
 and her moth dusted garbage bag gown,
 will she hold a whole nation in rapt contemplation
 of the angles that fangle her frown,

She was swaddled in thorns from the day she was born,
 when they plastered her into the casting,
 in her stead it is said that the blood she had bled
 was bestower of life ever-lasting,

At the cleft of her cough, cadavers became soft,
 and her sneezing caused freezing to warm,
 with a vomiting wretch, true life's breath did she fetch,
 through the puking rebuke of a charm,

The reprise of her cries could unpry blinded eyes,
 so they kept her in burdens bereft,
 and they opened their ears as they drank from her tears, 
 which could heal both the dumb and the deaf,

the refrain of her pain could make one young again,
 so the Everyone lent her its ear,
 and the song that she sang was a high-hunger-pang,
 from a place beyond hatred or fear,

A place where the There, from the trees to the air,
 is calling, clothed in your own thought,
 again and again, the familiar refrain,
 in a language the tongue has forgot,

Jain Vangles 


CONTACT US & LEASE BEATS: www.mavrickpopbeats.com

This is not edm.
This is always aggression
Passive
or Assertive
This is to expunge