I LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU

i scream this in the mirror before i interact with anyone

Exmilitary

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I LAY DOWN MY LIFE FOR YOU: DIRECTOR'S CUT

Jordan Rules

What the hip hop hell is this ?

CULT STATUS

COKE OR DOPE?

Boy You Should Know!

i lay down my life for you (feat. Buzzy lee)

Hidden in Rage is an explosive blend of rap and metal that channels fury into truth and survival. Across its tracks, the album tears open the wounds of war, poverty, corruption, ignorance, and betrayal — but beneath the chaos, it finds resilience and purpose.

From the haunting scars of “Alone in Darkness” to the relentless fight of “This Knight Fights On”, the record speaks to those who’ve been knocked down yet refuse to surrender. “Greed Is God” and “No Limits to My Rage” rage against systems that profit from human suffering, while “Stupidity’s Not the Killer It Should Be” takes aim at ignorance dragging humanity backward. “We Might Be Robots” reclaims science and technology as forces of liberation, and “Empty Vessel” finds peace in letting go of pain and choosing happiness. Finally, “Nowhere to Belong” confronts the human cost of homelessness, searching for a place to call home in a world that turns its back.

Crushing riffs, rapid-fire bars, guttural screams, and soaring choruses make Hidden in Rage both a weapon and a refuge — music for the voiceless, the fighters, the survivors. It’s a soundtrack for rebellion, but also for healing, reminding us that even in rage, we can find strength, solidarity, and hope.

We Might Be Robots

Alpha PVP on the tongue, blue-cold truth.
Ten minutes of sky in a life built roof to roof.
They call it madness; I hear a buried scream—
pressure valves opening where the seams should’ve been.


I’m past polite; their bleach can’t hide the stain.
Tie-tight hands keep tugging at our veins.
“Order,” they say—while neighbors pawn their coats;
letters stack, pharmacy says no.
We used to guard each other; now we audit pain.
Good deeds get taxed; cruelty gets a raise.
At dinner we plead our case like court—
even family won’t hold the fort.


Show me the face behind the ledger.
If help is broke, who broke the measure?


Anarchy over order.
Take from the vaults—leave the loaves.


We built the tools to fix the mess,
but money hugs the panic button, says “not yet.”
So poison gets pumped from under the town,
trees go missing, lungs bow down.
Tech could buy us hours with our kids again—
pinball bells, arcade light, friends that stay.
Instead, halls close; cheap highs flood in.
Cells stay full. Who pays? Not them.


Gravel air, courthouse grin.
Briefcase choir blessing sin.
My record fades to gray on screens;
I push the door—elastic means.
Call it a system, I call it a drain:
thumb on the plate, permanent stain.
I’m not your wage in velvet chain—
I hone my will till it cuts that frame.


Anarchy over order.
Better thieves in the street than halos in a rigged machine.


Alpha PVP: not escape—translation.
Euphoria in ruins, grief into information.


Why hire guards to shame the broke?
Why pay for cages, not the cure that works?
We make the sick sicker, then bill their tears;
the “safety net” is holes and gears.
Everyone knows the gap’s designed,
we call it weather to keep in line.
They want our bodies without our minds—
march straight, let the soul resign.


Quiet, then flash—the thread runs hot.
Bags by the door, the transit says “not.”
Palm-muted chug, tight hats bite;
they ship the gold; we hold the night.
Numbers cooked while the block eats crumbs;
boardroom claps as another debt comes.
If money must move, reach for the hoard—
not the pocket already floored.


Pay us for lifting each other.
Reward the hands that carry a brother.
Mask off the law—name every hand.
If justice wears brands, unbrand the brand.


Cut - wires - not - veins.
Crowd - stands - out - of - chains.
Tax - vaults - not - bread.
Feed - life - not - the - dead.
Alpha - PVP - flash - sign.
Pain - leaks - out - the - spine.
Wake - now - tear - the - tape.
Name - power - stop - the - rape.


Anarchy over order.
Take cash from the towers—leave the poor their bread.


If I walk alone, I’ll still refuse the leash.
I won’t die for their throne; I’ll live for release.
When history asks who cracked the chain, let it read:
not the hungry—call out the creed.

CREDITS:
Lyrics & composition: Mårten “MAROL” Olofsson
Vocals/arrangement direction: MAROL
Artwork: MAROL

Alpha PVP

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