ugly asf and forever alone

entry log

jaydes - idiot

mandys goth angelz mix

fendi w/jaydes

entry seven

Entry Logs (1-6)

Entry Four

merry mandy

hey u

romanticism

tylenol

heartpacing

patience

intro

migraine

ghetto cupid

rose

lyrics:

[Intro]
(C World)
Knife in my hand, like, why'd it have to be—
(C World)

[Chorus]
Knife in my hand, like, why'd it have to be me?
Backwood in my hand, sativa sticks in my dreams
Like, do I miss you? Like, damn
I kind of wish you could see me
So much blood on the leaves, I don’t think you'll believe me
But I guess I’m at peace
'Cause that’s what it’s been (You have no heart!)
Listen to myself argue with the demons within
Dodging bullets from pussies, 'cause that’s the climate I’m in

[Verse]
I've been dying to spin back, 'cause I’m dying to win
I stepped off of the pedestal, they said, “jaydes, why you did that?"
They think this a setback
I've been in that pussy, but it was just for a get back
And she won't forget that (C World)
These niggas dumb, just blame it on me
(Just blame it on me)

[Chorus]
Knife in my hand, like, why'd it have to be me?
Backwood in my hand, sativa sticks in my dreams
Like, do I miss you? Like, damn
I kind of wish you could see me
So much blood on the leaves, I don’t think you'll believe me
But I guess I’m at peace
'Cause that’s what it’s been
Listen to myself argue with the demons within
Dodging bullets from pussies, 'cause that’s the climate I’m in

[Outro]
Dying to win
These niggas dumb

idiot

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

im not jaydes, his acc got deleted. just a fan keeping his music alive and sharing it with others. <3

DM for inquires/repost etc

4u

jaydes

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