/// LETRA ///
"Yo dude, I brought this ice block!"
"Place it… gently…”

We creep past Headman’s floating skull,
whispers mask what he could cull.
Gnomes begin their sudden run—
each crate crash feels like a loaded gun.

Spewer coughs where cables fray,
we dodge and drag the rot away.
One dropped shard becomes our grail—
as broken keys and nerves both fail.

Apex waddles, cursed and slow,
the duckmask lands—someone will go.
Heartbeat syncs with bass below,
our breath held tight for the final blow.

Silent breath, whispered call,
the cry beneath the service hall.

Retrieve the loot—don’t count the score,
monsters knock at every door.
Huntsman fires—no aim, just war,
we bleed for gold on this cursed floor.

Cart’s half-full, but threats restore,
Hidden stalks with creeping lore.
Reaper wakes with sirens' roar—
we run through dread and something more.

Through shadows deep, the Hidden lurks,
our comms go dark as silence jerks.
Drop the loot and kill the light—
one wrong move ends the night.

A shout—Huntsman's steel is near,
the static cracks, we choke on fear.
We hug the cart, we beg, we plead,
but Bowtie rolls and starts to feed.

Bloated limbs on crates now lean,
we slip behind each metal screen.
A groan from keys not heard before—
fractals echo through the core.

One… two… three…
Don’t move. Don’t...

What was that? Gnomes steal more,
Reaper pounds through every floor.
Toxins leak—Spewer's encore—
we trade our fear for cursed decor.

"*********," one teammate barks,
Apex flares in brutal arcs.
Voice chat cuts through glitching sparks—
it’s extract now or leave in marks.

Rugrat scrapes through metal lanes,
its scream erupts in static chains.
We swing our tools, delay the kill—
the prize dissolves, and time stands still.

Headman floats with jaws apart,
our blood goes cold—we push the cart.
A final dash through pitch-black halls,
each thud behind us nearly stalls.

Peeper gazes—sight turns thin,
hallucinations burn the skin.
A clang, a shriek, then silence rings—
Extraction calls… or what it brings.

Tiny steps, Gnome's grin wide,
loot in hand—we run outside.
Reaper screams, then someone cried—
one ping wrong and someone died.

Can’t stack fast, no place to hide,
our sanity begins to slide.
Crates in hand, the cursed supplied—
did we escape… or just coincide?

"C’mon dude, it’s finally over."

Echo Retrieval - R.E.P.O.

/// LETRA ///
Welcome friends, to the finest bake,
I'll whisk your soul for a Wondertart’s sake.
A loving chef with whisk in hand,
But deeper plots stir in the pan.

Gather berries bright, sugar snow-white,
Limes that glow under my kitchen's light.
Each ingredient fuels my dream,
Yet lies hide a darker scheme.

When Chalice stirs with her astral bite,
I smile and say “We’ll make it right.”
But too well known is chef's sly game—
That secret spice: a soul to claim.

Whisk it fast, don’t lose the beat,
The recipe is near complete!
One soul to stir, one heart to bind,
And all shall rise with crust in mind! 

No second chance, no time to bake,
The sweetest dreams are those we break.
With powdered lies and candied screams,
I’ll plate your fate and frost your dreams.

Marinating your defeat, i'll take what's mine,
As sugar cubes dance, and salt shakers fly.
My humble apron turns to a cloak,
Each parry object fuels my oven's smoke.

A mushroom bloats me to giant size,
Pepper shakers sneeze received a surprise.
Gnome berries scream as they take flight,
In my bakery’s descending fight.

Salt pours forth once glass is cracked,
My salted heart begins attack.
Clones of salt dance floor and sky,
Till saw-blades grind with a chef’s sly eye.

Whisk it fast, don’t lose the beat,
The recipe is near complete!
One soul to stir, one heart to bind,
And all shall rise with crust in mind! 

No second chance, no time to bake,
The sweetest dreams are those we break.
With powdered lies and candied screams,
I’ll plate your fate and frost your dreams.

Redemption’s promise in my plea—
But power’s spice corrupted me.
Sins undone in post-trial grace,
Community toil to save my face.

Rebuilt ovens hot with hope,
I knead atonement in each loaf.
No longer will I bake with greed,
But feed brave hearts with tiny seeds.

Now Cuphead smiles, Chalice is whole,
Mugman cheers at my doughy goal.
A humble baker, no dark desire,
I serve with love, not burning fire.

Whisk it fast, don’t lose the beat,
The recipe is near complete!
One soul to stir, one heart to bind,
And all shall rise with crust in mind! 

No second chance, no time to bake,
The sweetest dreams are those we break.
With powdered lies and candied screams,
I’ll plate your fate and frost your dreams.

“Welcome back…We're ready to...bake...”

Here's your Meal - Chef Saltbaker

/// LETRAS ///
Me levanto entre grietas, con traje de oferta,
el café me amenaza y mi alma está muerta.
No soy detective ni matón de libreta,
solo barro el espanto... y recoloco puertas.

Big Jim me señala, me grita entre huesos,
y yo finjo que entiendo sus códigos gruesos.
Pero yo sólo limpio, me callo sus pesos,
y escondo reliquias en muebles traviesos.

Barro intestinos como quien lava platos,
tachando cadáveres de mis contratos.
Silbo entre vísceras, cuento zapatos,
y guardo en la bolsa relojes baratos.

La sangre me guiña desde la cortina,
yo silbo una rumba, me guardo propina.
Dexter me observa desde la cocina,
y Elena respira… mi causa divina.

No soy sacerdote, ni santo con maña,
pero limpio tragedias con mopa y con saña.
Me quedo con arte, botellas, nada sencillo,
y si sobra un Rolex, para mi bolsillo.

El ozonizador tapa el tufo a trauma,
yo friego en silencio, sin drama ni jauma.
Si huelo a cerebro, me pongo la bauma,
y pienso en Elena… hija solo tengo una.

En la escena hay un niño… o tal vez un abrigo,
mi reflejo en el charco me guiña sencillo.
Recojo billetes, quito testigo,
y al cerrar el contrato, sonrío ambiguo.

Mi historia no importa, ni el pasado en prisión,
la mafia no juzga, tendré redención?
Mi esposa en un marco, mi hija en tensión,
mi vida es trapear… y huir de la atención.

La sangre me guiña desde la cortina,
yo silbo una rumba, me guardo propina.
Dexter me observa desde la cocina,
y Elena respira… mi causa divina.

No soy sacerdote, ni santo con maña,
pero limpio tragedias con mopa y con saña.
Me quedo con arte, botellas, nada sencillo,
y si sobra un Rolex, para mi bolsillo.

Recogí un anillo con forma de pez,
lo metí en mi bolsillo, nadie lo ve.
El cadáver no habla, el muerto no es juez,
yo barro el final… y empiezo otra vez.

La radio murmura que soy criminal,
pero el parquet reluce, ¿eso está mal?
Pueden llamarme parásito o banal,
pero Elena sonríe… y eso es vital.

No quiero medallas ni mi nombre en mural,
me basta un hogar sin moho industrial.
Quizá esté podrido, quizá marginal,
pero nadie deja el piso tan celestial.

La sangre me guiña desde la cortina,
yo silbo una rumba, me guardo propina.
Dexter me observa desde la cocina,
y Elena respira… mi causa divina.

No soy sacerdote, ni santo con maña,
pero limpio tragedias con mopa y con saña.
Me quedo con arte, botellas, nada sencillo,
y si sobra un Rolex, para mi bolsillo.

“El crimen no duerme... pero yo siempre estoy para fregarlo.”

Limpiador de Pecados - Kovalsky [Bonus Track]

/// LETRA ///
Desde el polvo emergió con furia animal,
huérfano en guerra, sin miedo al final.
De la calle al cuadrilátero infernal,
con la máscara al cielo, su grab es letal.

Del callejón salió oliendo a derrota,
con los nudillos partidos por cuota.
Aprendió el rezo con base que azota,
su dios es el ring, su templo, la bota.

La lona vibró al girar su giant swing,
el público gritó ante su fuerza en el ring.
Ataca con furia cuando suena el ding,
y con cada golpe el públio clama

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

El público se enciende, ruge como tormenta,
puños de hierro, una lucha violenta.
Desde la esquina el rey se levanta,
grito de lucha, su furia no falta.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

Entre cuerdas hay sangre en la arena,
guerrero santo que enfrenta condena.
El ring es su templo, la lucha su fe,
"Y ahí viene el pin...Uno...Dos...¡Tres!"

King I cayó ante Ogre, una brutal verdad,
su mascarada calló frente a inmortalidad.
Pero otro niño la fue a heredar,
y fundió su puño con la misma santidad.

King II entrenó con Armor King, fue brutal,
forjó músculos y calma para revancha dar.
Con Marduk frente a frente se plantó sin matar,
porque el perdón vale más que la venganza al final.

Levanta pesos imposibles, rompe un corazón,
una fusión de furia y compasión.
En cada pelea, guía su devoción,
protegido por el jaguar, músculo y la razón.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

El público se enciende, ruge como tormenta,
puños de hierro, una lucha violenta.
Desde la esquina el rey se levanta,
grito de lucha, su furia no falta.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

Entre cuerdas hay sangre en la arena,
guerrero santo que enfrenta condena.
El ring es su templo, la lucha su fe,
"Y ahí viene el pin...Uno...Dos...¡Tres!"

Su gigantesco swing rompe cuerpos sin ver,
cada fibra de su pecho exuda poder.
Es santo y fuerza en el aquí y el ayer,
un jaguar que lucha por crecer y proteger.

Niños celebran su rostro sin rostro,
con puños benditos por un duro costo.
Él no habla, ruge como animal justo,
la máscara es leyenda… y el líder robusto.

Cuando avance su música, tiemblan los fanales,
la arena se tiñe de golpes, leyendas y males.
Porque King camina con pasos gigantes,
y prepárate cuando se pone los guantes.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

El público se enciende, ruge como tormenta,
puños de hierro, una lucha violenta.
Desde la esquina el rey se levanta,
grito de lucha, su furia no falta.

¡King! ¡King! ¡King!

Entre cuerdas hay sangre en la arena,
guerrero santo que enfrenta condena.
El ring es su templo, la lucha su fe,
"Y ahí viene el pin...Uno...Dos...¡Tres!"

Rugido del campeón - King

/// LETRA ///
They found Talbot scribbling a script on the wall,
etched with trembling claws where sanity dared to fall.
A monk’s hand laid him bare with it's palm,
The Entity whispers vowed salvation, but delivered him as thrall.

He was once a chemist chasing luminous bloom,
crafted a nectar from petals to escape an impending doom.
With clandestine trials on killers in a lab’s rancid gloom,
each injection a heartbeat fractured—murdered in full.

A rat bit his marrow, shared an inanimate breath,
and Talbot felt the serum pulse in his veins, already numb with death.
Addiction blurred his memory, now cleaving to its wreath,
the fog claimed him—he became The Blight, undone beneath.

He carved: “Death is only the beginning,”
Yet emptiness filled the void he was sinking in.
The alchemist became the pest, his own flesh corroding ever‑thin,
trapped in The Entity’s cruel design where sorrow’s cycle rings.

Talbot’s ambition birthed his prison, his serum tasted his fall,
He sought liberation yet birthed an abomination for all.
Now he chokes on pulsing pustulas, his humanity a stalled sprawl,
A broken vessel haunted by his craving’s final call.

In memory logs he saw Vigo’s journal—half‑torn, incomplete,
The missing pages birthed a doom he’d endlessly repeat.
He captured killers to test the dosage with deceit,
Each compound brewed obsession, each rush a poisonous beat.

He remembered whispered truths behind sacred halls,
A smile cracked like the ceiling with fading resolve.
And when they dumped him in that den of wasted souls and pall,
His notes gone, he carved his flesh and his mind dissolved.

In The Entity’s realm he hunted hope with serum as his guide,
With injection he twisted minds until identities died.
Now he rushes off walls like a pinballed soul inside,
Talbot buried, The Blight emerging where memories hide.

He carved: “Death is only the beginning,”
Yet emptiness filled the void he was sinking in.
The alchemist became the pest, his own flesh corroding ever‑thin,
trapped in The Entity’s cruel design where sorrow’s cycle rings.

Talbot’s ambition birthed his prison, his serum tasted his fall,
He sought liberation yet birthed an abomination for all.
Now he chokes on pulsing pustulas, his humanity a stalled sprawl,
A broken vessel haunted by his craving’s final call.

He once believed in altering nature, in saving humankind,
But it just purged his body also poisoned his mind.
The Entity lurks in the blossom he tried so hard to find,
Gifted him addiction instead—a fate cruelly designed.

Now, in trials he rushes like a ghost, a chemical shadow’s dance,
His form grotesque, blistered by petals of vain romance.
He recalls only fragments: hunger, serum, a mad trance—
Talbot buried beneath The Blight, swallowed by his chance.

Some say Talbot still exists inside that corrupted beast,
A flicker fighting to escape a prison of savage feast.
Yet each bloom ensures his suffering won’t cease,
His legacy a warning: genius undone, never in peace.

“He chased the cure—and became the plague.”

He carved: “Death is only the beginning,”
Yet emptiness filled the void he was sinking in.
The alchemist became the pest, his own flesh corroding ever‑thin,
trapped in The Entity’s cruel design where sorrow’s cycle rings.

Talbot’s ambition birthed his prison, his serum tasted his fall,
He sought liberation yet birthed an abomination for all.
Now he chokes on pulsing pustulas, his humanity a stalled sprawl,
A broken vessel haunted by his craving’s final call.

He Who Burns the Cure - The Blight

/// LETRA ///
"Pull it... foil it... sleeve it... bliss."

You walk in the door, shelves glow with cardboard dreams,
Booster after booster, chasing holo gleams.
The bell chimes low—customers shuffle in teams,
Coin flips, sleeve clinks, building shop‑floor schemes.

Price at margin, boost stock flow,
Keep the stinky ones two tiles below.
Poster art modded, cards in a row,
That Tetramon rare? Not letting it go.

NPC offers, weird and bold,
Trades you foil for a slab of mold.
Countertop sticky, the AC's cold,
But business is up and your shelf's pure gold.

Tetramon packs pop open in your haze,
Rare card in the deck — leaving you to amaze.
Booster bliss, trading kicks, strategy and praise,
In your cozy TCG shop you spend Saturdays.

Holofoil shine in a booster box,
you frame that pull like a trophy, bro.
Buy low, sell high, let the meta flow,
This binder life’s got that pro‑shop glow.

You save the rares, you flip the bulk,
Track price trends in a spreadsheet hulk.
Tournament night, your regulars talk,
Deck tech wars and cardboard chalk.

Open packs with a trembling hand,
Praying for foil from the booster band.
A ghost-type holo from a cursed brand—
You price it high, and they still demand.

Staff restock with minor flair,
Knock over plushies without a care.
But they sleeve like pros, so you let it spare,
And customers love that nostalgic air.

Tetramon packs pop open in your haze,
Rare card in the deck — leaving you to amaze.
Booster bliss, trading kicks, strategy and praise,
In your cozy TCG shop you spend Saturdays.

Holofoil shine in a booster box,
you frame that pull like a trophy, bro.
Buy low, sell high, let the meta flow,
This binder life’s got that pro‑shop glow.

"Hahaha, let's go to the card shop and duel...!!!" [Distant laugther]

Stockroom's chaos, but you know the zone,
Tracking ultrarare pulls like a cardboard throne.
You built this shop with cards alone,
Now you rule the weekend 'cause it’s well-known.

Display case glows, the fridge hums light,
Snack bar pops, and sleeves snap tight.
That kid pulled gold, eyes pure delight—
You remember that feeling, pure and bright.

So you clock out slow, mop the floor,
Update your wishlist, restock some more.
Life in a shop with your heart as core,
Where decks get shuffled...A legend's store.

Tetramon packs pop open in your haze,
Rare card in the deck — leaving you to amaze.
Booster bliss, trading kicks, strategy and praise,
In your cozy TCG shop you spend Saturdays.

Holofoil shine in a booster box,
you frame that pull like a trophy, bro.
Buy low, sell high, let the meta flow,
This binder life’s got that pro‑shop glow.

"Collect… trade… dream… bliss..."

One Booster at a Time - TCG Card Shop Sim [Bonus Track]

/// LETRA ///
Nadie le conocía...pero el cielo aprendió su nombre a gritos.

Nació de una roca que el sol bendijo,
Miró a los inmortales como si fueran pijos.
No tuvo modales, ni leyes, ni hijos,
Pero el mundo escuchó al mono vivo.

Estudió el Tao con una furia escondida,
Robó los secretos de la eterna vida.
Con formas cambiantes se burló en huida,
Y al borrar su nombre, de la muerte se olvida.

Robó un bastón en el mar del Este,
Lo alzó desafiante, sin rezos ni suerte.
Le pateó el trono a la fuerza suprema,
Y convirtió su castigo en nuevo poema.

Gritó su nombre al borde del sol,
Retando al cielo sin ningún temor.
Cada nube cambió de color,
Cuando el mono surca el cielo mayor.

No tiene trono, ni altar, ni perdón,
Pero su bastón trae perdición.
Si ves una nube sin explicación,
Quizás es Wukong en otra misión.

Robó los duraznos del gran festín,
Burló los sellos de un paladín.
Reía en la cara de Erlang Shen,
Y el orden divino le puso fin.

Buda bajó con su gesto paciente,
Le puso una trampa inteligente.
Cruzó cinco dedos, calló al valiente,
Y el simio cayó... pero no para siempre.

Cincuenta siglos bajo una montaña,
Soñando con burlas, queriendo hazañas.
Hasta que un monje en su jornada,
le dio otro norte, rompió en mirada.

Gritó su nombre al borde del sol,
Retando al cielo sin ningún temor.
Cada nube cambió de color,
Cuando el mono surca el cielo mayor.

No tiene trono, ni altar, ni perdón,
Pero su bastón trae perdición.
Si ves una nube sin explicación,
Quizás es Wukong en otra misión.

[Buda:] "No fue un castigo, fue una pausa para pensar."

Cuidó al monje de ogros y tercos,
selló a los demonios sin cuerpo.
A golpes y astucia limpió el talego,
su furia al fin tuvo un justo apego.

Aprendió a callar sin dejar de crecer,
a ser el grito que sabe volver.
No era obediente, ni iba a ceder,
pero halló equilibrio en su propio deber.

El cielo, al final, le abrió el portal,
no por sumiso, sino inmortal.
No por rezar, ni por ser leal,
sino por ser libre...y real.

他在日边高声呐喊，
无惧天威逆风而战。
云随怒火翻成异样，
齐天大圣再次飞翔。

无王无庙也无宽恕，
金箍棒下乾坤倾覆。
若见天云异于常处，
是悟空又踏征途路。

"Hay mitos que se rezan… y otros que se temen."

El Rey Mono - Sun Wukong [Myth]

I am Groot [Bonus Track]

/// LETRA ///
Born in chains, I begged for glory,
Ares carved my name in story.
Blades in hand, I burned my fate,
The Ghost of Sparta sealed by hate.

I led with fury, I struck with pride,
But left my wife and child to die.
Their ashes clung to skin and soul—
Now rage is all I ever hold.

The gods above, they watched me fall,
Then used my blood to feed their call.
No mercy came, no light was shown—
I forged a kingdom made of bone.

No more gods to chain my breath,
No more lies dressed up as death.
I tore their thrones from sky to stone,
I am the end they should have known.

No more oaths, no more regret,
I wear my sins, I pay my debt.
They wrote me off as beast, as war—
But I’m the storm they can’t ignore.

Poseidon's blood blackened the tide,
I crushed the sea and watched it die.
Helios screamed as I took the sun,
His golden head came undone.

Hermes ran — but I took his speed,
And left him broken, begging, plead.
Hades fell into the deep,
Where even death forgot to weep.

I faced the Fates, I shattered time,
Defied Olympus, climbed and climbed.
Pandora’s flame inside me burned,
But gods don't care what mortals learn.

No more gods to chain my breath,
No more lies dressed up as death.
I tore their thrones from sky to stone,
I am the end they should have known.

No more oaths, no more regret,
I wear my sins, I pay my debt.
They wrote me off as beast, as war—
But I’m the storm they can’t ignore.

I saw Athena rot with grace,
Still tried to guilt me with her face.
But gods breed monsters with their games,
And I burned down their holy flames.

Cronos cried beneath my heel,
His titan bones my blade could feel.
Even Gaia turned her back,
So I carved my path in black.

Then Zeus… the father, fraud, and fear—
I killed him slow, I made it clear.
He stole my soul, my will, my voice—
But dying by my hand was his last choice.

No more gods to chain my breath,
No more lies dressed up as death.
I tore their thrones from sky to stone,
I am the end they should have known.

No more oaths, no more regret,
I wear my sins, I pay my debt.
They wrote me off as beast, as war—
But I’m the storm they can’t ignore.

“I am no god… I am what gods fear.”

God of War - Kratos [Greek Saga]

From a turret's perspective.

/// LETRA ///
I’ve seen you stroll in, all polish and poise,
Atlas steady, P-Body full of noise.
Doors that whisper, floors that sigh,
and places you fall… oh, so high.

Buttons wait for careful feet to press,
while somewhere above… well, you’ll guess.
Ping, jump, vanish through the blue,
what happens next is between me and you.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, my favorite view,
two test subjects, shiny and new.
Through light and shadow, through silence and flame,
you’re smiling ‘cause losing still feels like a game.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, I wish I could go,
to drift through the air in that portal show.
But I’ll stay in my corner, just humming along,
while you pass the next test to my turret song.

A cube drifts past, then it’s gone from sight,
the floor here’s thinner than it looks—just right.
Funnels twist, the air feels strange,
you’re moving fast through a shifting range.

We hum in time to the chamber’s tone,
you never quite walk the way you’re shown.
Some find the end, some never start,
I’m certain you’ll play your part.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, my favorite view,
two test subjects, polished and true.
Through beams that hum, through traps without name,
you’re smiling ‘cause danger’s just part of the game.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, I wish I could go,
to spin through the air in that portal show.
But I’ll stay in my corner, still humming along,
while you pass the next test to my turret song.

The plates will fling, the lights will fade,
you’ll hear a sound that someone made.
Faith leaps high, a door unlocks,
I count the seconds, tick by tick, clock by clock.

She speaks above, her voice so dry,
and you keep moving, though you don’t know why.
Still, I’m here, my aim held true,
watching, waiting, smiling… for you.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, my favorite view,
two test subjects, shiny and new.
Through steel and silence, through puzzles and flame,
you’re smiling ‘cause ending still feels like a game.

Oh Atlas and P-Body, I wish I could go,
to fly through the air in that portal show.
But I’ll stay in my corner, forever along,
while you pass the next test to my turret song.

Goodbye...

To the Moon - Peak  [Bonus Track]

I write, i direct, i decide, it simply generates. Ai song maker for fun an my own enjoyment, you don't have to like it :)

Echo Retrieval - R.E.P.O.

KnightKakashi