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CrownOfAshes + ᴮʸ ᴾˡˢᴰⁿᵗᶜʰᵃˢᵉ

Sick of it all (Remastered)

When you're All Alone.mp3

[Verse 1]
Echoes in the skull, bones rattle like loose change in a pocket full of regrets,
Sweat on the sheets, solo symphony of screams I never let escape the net.
Fingers claw at ghosts, grip slips on the ladder I built from broken bets,
Every step a stutter, tumbling back to the pit where the heart forgets.
Whispers from the walls, "You fumbled again, king of the almost-there throne,"
Mirror cracks a grin, shows the clown crown I wear when I'm alone.
Pills scatter like confetti from a party that ended before it begun,
Chasin' tail lights of dreams that swerve and leave me spun.
Fury bubbles low, a storm in the gut twistin' slow,
Punch the pillow pretendin' it's the face of the me I let go.
Nights bleed into days, a cycle of "why" and "what if" chains,
Solo in the storm, drownin' in the rain of my own dumb pains.

[Chorus]
Alone in the wreckage, fists to the sky but the clouds just laugh,
Fuckin' up the script, every line a glitch, aftermath crash.
Shadows tag along, pullin' strings on this puppet show farce,
Never nail the landing, always the spark that fizzles harsh.

[Verse 2]
Kitchen floor confessions to the fridge hummin' lullabies of loss,
Bottle caps collection, trophies for the nights I crossed my own boss.
Friends fade like smoke signals I misread in the fog of my flaws,
Dial tones mock the calls I chicken out on, clawin' at closed doors.
Double dip in despair, heir to the error, terror in the mirror stare,
Pair of eyes hollow, swallow the sorrow till it chokes the air.
Schemes unravel quick, brick by brick I stack the blame game wall,
Fall through the cracks, tracks of tears map the crawl back to crawl.
Rage ripples out, shout at the void but it spits back silence thick,
Pick at the scabs of "shoulda," blood drips rhythmic, sick tick-tock trick.
Wander the warehouse mind, aisles of "if only" stocked high,
Supply run for sanity always comes up dry.

[Bridge]

[Verse 3]
Ceiling stares back judgmental, paint peels like promises I shred,
Bed a battlefield, bullets of doubt lodged deep in the head.
Solo jam session, guitar strings snap under frantic fret press,
Mess of melodies mournin' the moves I second-guess.
Entendres double-edged, hedge bets on the edge where I ledge-dive,
Alive but barely, parley with the dark that makes me thrive? Nah, jive.
Turkey in the straw, draw the short one every raffle round,
Ground swallows the sound of my stumbles, profound pound.
Ire ignites sporadic, erratic static in the brain pan fry,
Try to tie the noose on the blues but the knot always slips by.
Drift through the driftwood days, waves of "wrong" crash relentless,
Defenseless in the deluge, foolish fuel for the endless.

[Chorus]

[Verse 4]
Drawer full of drafts, half-baked plans that bake in the regret oven,
Shovin' down the doubt but it bubbles up, sudden gut punch lovin'.
Echo chamber solo, polo shirt stained with the sweat of "almost won,"
Done before the dawn, withdrawn from the race I never run.
Fumble fingers on the keys, pleas to the ether go unanswered flat,
Scatterbrained cat chasin' its tail in the trap I set, splat.
Wrath whispers sweet, "Smash it all," but the hammer hand shakes weak,
Leak of fury feeble, retrieval of the pieces? Nah, too bleak.
Rhyme ricochet wild, child of the chill that kills the thrill slow,
Flow folds under the weight of the wait, plate full of "no."
Linger in the limbo lounge, lounge lizard lappin' up the lone,
Bone-tired, wired wrong from the jump, home in the groan.

[Outro Verse]
Final flick of the lighter, ignite the night with a sigh that sighs deep,
Creep through the creep of the keep I can't escape, sleep a thief.
Beef with the reflection, deflection of the truth hits like a brick,
Sick of the script flip, trip on the rip in the seam, quick.
Alone? Yeah, etched in the etch of the etch-a-sketch shake,
Mistake parade marches on, dawn breaks on the fake awake.
Fury fades to flicker, thicker than the mist but mistier still,
Chill pill swallowed whole, hole in the soul that time can't fill.

Alone In The Wreckage

THAT BOY FOCUSED

[Intro]
Yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
I been lost all day (yeah)
Uh, yeah, uh

[Hook]
Why I even try?
Don’t wanna step outside
Moonlight feels alright
Sunlight burns my eyes
If I ain’t got you, then I got no life
cry for 2 hours, I’ll be good for the night
Yeah, I’ll be good for the night (uh)
Just me and my vice, yeah

[post chorus]
Did you think that I’d make it?
Nah, I just fake it
Money don’t fix pain, I still can’t escape it
Lookin’ for a feeling I had when I was wasted
Baby, you the only one that ever felt sacred
Now I’m facin’ the mirror, my reflection’s vacant

[Verse 1]
Young, dumb, still runnin’ from myself again
Don’t ask if I’m fine, I’ll just lie again
Only thing that keeps me sane is the pad and pen
Therapy inside the mic, I bleed through the instrument
Lost boy, driftin’ like I’m stuck in Neverland
They don’t understand
How I smile for the cam, but my soul’s in the sand
All these fake friends callin’, I don’t pick up, man
Rather be alone in the dark with my plans

[Hook]
Why I even try?
Don’t wanna step outside
Moonlight feels alright
Sunlight burns my eyes
If I ain’t got you, then I got no life
cry for 2 hours, I’ll be good for the night
Yeah, I’ll be good for the night (uh)
Just me and my vice, yeah

[Outro]
Don’t tell nobody
I’m right beside you
Heard some voices
But I can’t find you
Don’t tell nobody
I’m right beside you
Heard some voices
But I can’t find you
Yeah, yeah, yeah...

vice


### 📍 SoundCloud Kontaktpunkter

- **Adresse:**  
  Rheinsberger Str. 76/77,  
  10115 Berlin, Tyskland

- **Generell kontakt:**  
  ✉️ [contact@soundcloud.com](mailto:contact@soundcloud.com)

- **For juridiske henvendelser og DSA-relaterte forespørsler:**  
  ✉️ [legal@soundcloud.com](mailto:legal@soundcloud.com)  
  (Kan kommuniseres på tysk eller engelsk)

- **Brukerstøtte:**  
  Tilgjengelig via SoundClouds hjelpesider

Hvis du trenger hjelp med å formulere en henvendelse, enten som artist eller bruker, kan jeg hjelpe deg med å skrive en e-post eller et formelt brev via Jon_Arve@iCloud.com og en AI bot. Bare fortell meg meg eller send link til din SoundCloud profil.

Static Existence

A dark, brooding boom-bap foundation anchors the track at 80 BPM, driven by a heavy, resonant 808 kick and a snappy, slightly reverbed snare. Sparse, intricate hi-hat patterns provide a subtle, restless energy. A low, distorted synth bassline pulsates with a menacing rhythm throughout the verses, hinting at suppressed tension. For melodic elements, think grimy, chopped soul samples layered with a melancholic, slightly detuned synth pad, creating a hazy, almost mournful backdrop.


# Powder Burn 
Yeah, walked in, air thick, heavy with the words we threw
Still hear the echo, 'bout the things we both went through
Eyes meet, ain't no kindness, just a mirror of the scorn
Two gladiators in a silence, till the next fight's born
Remember how you slammed that door? My chest felt like it cracked
But then I saw that flicker, somethin' you held back
That fire behind the fury, knowin' what's comin' next
The calm before the thunder, the prelude to the sex

[Chorus]
Powder Burn, yeah, we ignite the after-storm
Bodies crashin', makin' up for every verbal scorn
Lost in the friction, where the anger starts to fade
This ain't just love, it's the beautiful mess we made
Every touch a promise, every kiss a ceasefire's breath
From bitter words to ecstasy, we flirt with sweet, sweet death

[Verse 2]
Fingers trace the fault lines, where the argument had bled
Whispers in the dark now, the unspoken things we said
That cold shoulder shiver, turns to tremble in my grip
Every angry word forgotten, on the journey of your lip
Pull you closer, feel the rhythm, heartbeat against mine
All that rage a memory, just a beautiful design
The way you claw my back now, like you're tryin' to erase
All the doubt, all the distance, in this sacred, savage space

[Chorus]
Powder Burn, yeah, we ignite the after-storm
Bodies crashin', makin' up for every verbal scorn
Lost in the friction, where the anger starts to fade
This ain't just love, it's the beautiful mess we made
Every touch a promise, every kiss a ceasefire's breath
From bitter words to ecstasy, we flirt with sweet, sweet death

[Bridge]
And in the aftermath, when the quiet starts to creep
We lay entwined, the secrets that our tired bodies keep
See the trust in your eyes, though the fire's still a spark
Guess this twisted love of ours, it thrives best in the dark
Yeah, we fight dirty, baby, push each other to the brink
But this right here, this connection, it makes me stop and think

[Chorus]
Powder Burn, yeah, we ignite the after-storm
Bodies crashin', makin' up for every verbal scorn
Lost in the friction, where the anger starts to fade
This ain't just love, it's the beautiful mess we made
Every touch a promise, every kiss a ceasefire's breath
From bitter words to ecstasy, we flirt with sweet, sweet death

---

## Generation Parameters
- **Genre**: modern west coast english rap
- **Language**: English
- **Structure**: Verse-Chorus-Bridge
- **Key**: C-Major
- **BPM**: 80
- **Lyrical Theme**: makeup sex
- **Sentiment Anger**: 28
- **Sentiment Sadness**: 29
- **Sentiment Joy**: 63
- **Creativity**: 67

Powder Burn (2025)

Chronos Jester, the Time Traveling Booty Eater

Too Much To Hate On

County Line Heartbeat

**Jon@rve** #JonArveOvesen, and aliases in respective collaborations, embarks on a musical adventure, his heart resonating with the #rhythm of #life. Along the winding road, he encounters both harmonious melodies and dissonant #chords. Here are some challenges he faces:

1. **The #Composer's Block**: Jon@rve, like any artist, grapples with moments of #creative drought. His #fingers hover over the piano keys, but the notes #remain elusive. He must #learn to break through this block, finding #inspiration even in the #mundane.

2. **The Discordant Critics**: As Jon@rve shares his #compositions, critics emerge from the #shadows. Some praise, while others dissect every note. He must learn to stay true to his #voice, ignoring the #cacophony of #opinions, and continue composing from his #soul.

3. **The Quest for Originality**: In a #world #saturated with music, Jon@rve seeks uniqueness. He wanders through #forests of familiar #tunes, hoping to stumble upon a hidden melody—a symphony that hasn't been played before. But #originality is a rare gem, and he must dig deep within himself to find it.

4. **The Broken Strings**: Jon@rve's guitar strings snap during a pivotal performance. Panic surges through him, but he adapts. He reconfigures the chords, turning #adversity into an #improvised #masterpiece. Life, too, throws #unexpected challenges, and Jon@rve learns #resilience.

5. **The Siren's Song**: On a moonlit night, he hears a haunting melody by the river. A #mysterious figure—part muse, part temptress—beckons him. Should he follow her into the unknown, risking #everything for inspiration? Or stay grounded, fearing the #abyss?

6. **The Battle of Genres**: Jon@rve straddles genres—#classical, #jazz, #rock, #electronic. Each has its allure, but he must choose his path. Will he blend them #harmoniously or create a fusion that defies #labels? The #crossroads awaits.

7. **The Symphony of Loss**: Love fades, friendships fracture, and life #orchestrates heartbreak. Jon@rve composes elegies for what's lost, weaving pain into his music. Yet, amidst #minor chords, he discovers resilience—the #crescendo after #sorrow.

8. **The Encore Anxiety**: The spotlight blinds him. Applause echoes. Jon@rve stands before an #expectant audience. Will they embrace his performance or cast him aside? The fear of failure gnaws at him, but he plays anyway, pouring his #essence into the keys.

9. **The Muse's Departure**: The muse who once whispered melodies in his dreams vanishes. Jon@rve grapples with #silence, seeking new #sources of inspiration. Perhaps the rustling leaves or a child's laughter will #ignite his creativity #anew.

10. **The Final Note**: As Jon@rve ages, he reflects on his journey. His hands, weathered yet #graceful, play a final composition—a blend of #joy, #sorrow, and #acceptance. The audience weeps, knowing this is his swan song. But in that last #note, he finds #eternity.

And so, Jon@rve's road winds on—a #symphony of #highs and #lows, #crescendos and #decrescendos. His purpose remains clear: to #create, to resonate, and to find #beauty in #every measure of #life. 🎵🌟
 🎶🎧.

**Jon@rve** is a captivating figure, a blend of artistic spirit and rugged determination. Here's how he appears:

1. **Wild Tresses**: His hair, a cascade of #ebony waves, falls across his forehead. It's as if the notes of a #melancholic nocturne have woven themselves into his locks.

2. **Eyes of Resonance**: Jon@rve's eyes are deep pools of inspiration. They hold the wisdom of #countless #melodies and the curiosity of a perpetual seeker. Their color? Perhaps a stormy gray, reflecting both #tempests and calm #seas.

3. **Composer's Hands**: His hands—long-fingered and calloused—are the tools of his trade. They dance across #piano keys, coaxing out #harmonies or strumming guitar #strings with fervor. Ink stains mark his fingertips from #countless compositions.

4. **Bohemian Attire**: Jon@rve's wardrobe defies #convention. He wears faded jeans, patched at the knees, and a threadbare shirt adorned with music notes. A scarf, #vibrant and mismatched, wraps around his neck—an ode to #artisticrebellion.

5. **Tattooed Melodies**: Ink trails along his forearms—a symphony etched into skin. Notes swirl, treble clefs interlace with bass clefs, and a crescendo spirals toward his wrist. Each #tattoo tells a story—a sonnet of lost love, a ballad of #resilience.

6. **Weathered Boots**: His boots bear the scars of wanderlust. They've trodden through bustling city #streets and dew-kissed #meadows alike. Mud clings to their soles, a #testament to Jon@rve's journey.

7. **Silver Pendant**: Around his neck hangs a silver pendant—an #eighth note suspended on a delicate chain. It swings with each step, a metronome marking time. Some say it's his talisman, others, a #secret key to #unlock inspiration.

8. **Unconventional Gaze**: When Jon@rve looks at you, it's as if he peers into your soul. His gaze holds #vulnerability and defiance in equal measure. You wonder if he sees the world through a musical lens, where every heartbeat syncs to a #rhythm.

9. **Faded Sheet Music**: In his back pocket, crumpled and #cherished, rests a sheet of music. Its ink has blurred with time, but the notes #remain legible—a melody composed during a moonlit night when the stars whispered #secrets.

10. **Echo of Echoes**: Jon@rve carries an echo—an elusive presence that follows him. Some say it's the #ghost of a #forgotten composer, guiding his hand. Others believe it's the muse itself, weaving inspiration into his existence.

And so, Jon@rve walks the #road of life, his appearance a canvas painted by the music he creates—a symphony of #existence. 🎶✨

Static Existence

Jon Arve Ovesen

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