/// 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]

/// LETRA ///
Entre las nieves prisionero como un cualquiera,
pero Alduin quebró esa carrera.
Un grito bastó para hacer llover piedra,
y el cielo tembló con el fin de las eras.

Ahora a salvo, su voz ha curado,
por el destino su nombre marcado.
Los barbas grises iniciarían su legado,
una voz ancestral en cuerpo sellado.

Aprendió palabras que mueven el viento,
caminó entre ruinas y yacimientos.
No busca una fe, ni ser el héroe del momento,
busca parar el fin de los tiempos..


¡Dovahkiin! ¡Dovahkiin!
Un héroe usa su voz ancestral,
las lenguas del fuego, del hielo, del mar...
Con paso continuo, a Alduin enfrentar,
el Sangre de Dragón lo matará al final.

¡Dovahkiin! ¡Dovahkiin!
Zul mey gut zeymahzin.
Yol toor shul, fah hin,
Krif voth ahkrin!

En Alduin vio el mundo destruido,
el fin del principio, un ciclo vencido.
No temió morir ni matar a ese mito,
pues con una carga de su voz, tiembla el infinito.

Sus armas no preguntan, su magia sentencia,
rompe cadenas, reparte consecuencias.
El mundo respira cuando coge las riendas,
y surca los hielos, nuestra supervivencia.

Mató sin rencor, venció sin orgullo,
con piel de mendigo y un fiel escudo.
Pero en su pecho, un medallón suyo,
y surge una boda en Riften concluyo.

¡Dovahkiin! ¡Dovahkiin!
Un héroe usa su voz ancestral,
las lenguas del fuego, del hielo, del mar...
Con paso continuo, a Alduin enfrentar,
el Sangre de Dragón lo matará al final.

¡Dovahkiin! ¡Dovahkiin!
Zul mey gut zeymahzin.
Yol toor shul, fah hin,
Krif voth ahkrin!

Quizás ahora duerme bajo piedra antigua,
quizás su nombre el frío lo abriga.
Pero si el cielo sangra y se fatiga,
sabremos que su promesa no termina.

Dejará huellas donde pisa el miedo,
y su silueta será un recuerdo.
El grito volverá llegará con el viento,
cuando los dioses busquen su acento.

La historia lo nombra sin comprenderlo,
los bardos lo cantan sin merecerlo.
Pero el pueblo sabrá reconocerlo:
sólo él puede volver a hacerlo.

¡Dovahkiin! ¡Dovahkiin!
Un héroe usa su voz ancestral,
las lenguas del fuego, del hielo, del mar...
Con paso continuo, a Alduin enfrentar,
el Sangre de Dragón lo matará al final.

¡Dovahkiin! ¡Dovahkiin!
Zul mey gut zeymahzin.
Yol toor shul, fah hin,
Krif voth ahkrin!

Sangre de Dragón - Dovakhiin

/// LETRA ///
I’ve seen the heat-ghost walk through jungle mist,
mask of a war-god, claws at the wrist.
Men fall silent, their blood turns red,
skulls on his belt—no shot ever missed.

No ghost, no beast, just a soldier in dread,
wearing the bones of enemies dead.
Eyes like a furnace, scanning in red,
a code in his hands, steel on his head.

Cloaked in the shimmer, he waits for the call,
a whisper, a click, and your heartbeat will stall.
He hunts for the worthy, ignores the small,
the jungle is his kingdom, and death is his hall.

They say he hunts for honor, but mercy’s never near,
his shadow’s on your shoulder, his breath is in your ear.
A trail of hollow skulls, the trophies that he keeps,
the Predator’s in the darkness where no one ever sleeps.

He watches from the treeline, unseen by any eyes,
each step a silent verdict, each strike a swift demise.
The jungle hums his warning, the air begins to burn,
and once you’re in his vision, you're bound to not return.

I’ve heard him in war zones, a phantom in flame,
tracking through ruins, knowing your name.
Not here for conquest, not here for fame,
just the art of the hunt as a deadly game.

They’ve tried to trap him, they’ve tried to run,
but the hunt’s not over ‘til the hunter’s done.
He weighs every shot like the pull of the sun,
and leaves with the prize when the hunt is won.

The heat fades behind him, the jungle regrows,
the blood in the soil is all that he shows.
No one can follow where the demon goes,
but the legend blooms in the place he chose.

They say he hunts for honor, but mercy’s never near,
his shadow’s on your shoulder, his breath is in your ear.
A trail of hollow skulls, the trophies that he keeps,
the Predator’s in the darkness where no one ever sleeps.

He watches from the treeline, unseen by any eyes,
each step a silent verdict, each strike a swift demise.
The jungle hums his warning, the air begins to burn,
and once you’re in his vision, you're bound to not return.

Some call him an omen, a god without creed,
who cuts down the strong and ignores the weak's breed.
He answers to nothing but the hunter’s need,
and carves his commandments in every bleed.

I’ve watched him in winter, I’ve seen him in rain,
always the stalker, the ghost in your brain.
The kill is his sermon, the death is his gain,
the legend survives though the bodies remain.

If you hear the click and the jungle sigh,
don’t pray for a savior, don’t bother to try.
The hunt is your ending, the stars are his sky,
and your skull is the crown in his victory cry.

They say he hunts for honor, but mercy’s never near,
his shadow’s on your shoulder, his breath is in your ear.
A trail of hollow skulls, the trophies that he keeps,
the Predator’s in the darkness where no one ever sleeps.

He watches from the treeline, unseen by any eyes,
each step a silent verdict, each strike a swift demise.
The jungle hums his warning, the air begins to burn,
and once you’re in his vision, you're bound to not return.

Eternal Hunt - The Predator

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...

Partner Puzzles - P-Body & Atlas [Bonus Track]

/// LETRA ///
Fresh out the gate, air thick with that kerosene,
Back on the scene, draped clean in that Grove green.
Concrete dreams where the curbside sermons preach,
Bullets in the breeze, turn lessons into speech.

Liberty cold, but the West got that heat back,
Sweet on the line like, “Bro, we need that.”
Crates in the alley, lil’ homies play dice,
One wrong step, and you gamble with life.

Reclaim blocks, turn purple into ghost towns,
Keep the chrome tucked where the cops never scope ‘round.
Every handshake tight — history in the veins,
Grove ain’t just turf, it’s the blood in my chains.

Green over everything, crown on the street,
From the cul-de-sac roots to the heart where we meet.
Hustle through the night ‘til the sun runs away,
Every breath Grove Street, every step where I stay.

Enemies circle but they can’t get inside,
We built this in blood, in the truth we confide.
Grove’s more than a set, it’s the soul that we keep,
The hood don’t sleep, and the green runs deep.

Temple block flips when we roll with them heaters,
Ballas drop fast, tell the coroner, “Keep her.”
Tag up walls like scripture in the moonlight,
Every can hiss sound like war comin’ soon, right?

Idlewood turned, now the flags in the breeze sway,
Whole hood painted in that Grove Street freeway.
OG nods when the mission come clean,
Respect stack higher than the smoke from the scene.

Loyalty’s currency, we rich in that gold,
Kendl in my ear sayin’ “Never let go.”
Even when the storm hit, we holdin’ the line,
If death got a schedule, better cancel mine.

Green over everything, crown on the street,
From the cul-de-sac roots to the heart where we meet.
Hustle through the night ‘til the sun runs away,
Every breath Grove Street, every step where I stay.

Enemies circle but they can’t get inside,
We built this in blood, in the truth we confide.
Grove’s more than a set, it’s the soul that we keep,
The hood don’t sleep, and the green runs deep.

Palm trees watch like they judging our sins,
Still I ride with the set through the thick and the thin.
From the payphone hits to the freeway chases,
To the masks in the dark and the graveyard faces.

Cash moves, but the loyalty’s priceless,
Push too far, we react with a crisis.
CJ’s code: keep it clean, keep it mean,
And keep it Grove Street every breath in between.

I seen crowns fall ‘cause they fronted too quick,
But we patient with war like the fuse on a brick.
When the sunset burns and the block feels right,
I know where I’m from, and I’ll rep it for life.

Green over everything, crown on the street,
From the cul-de-sac roots to the heart where we meet.
Hustle through the night ‘til the sun runs away,
Every breath Grove Street, every step where I stay.

Enemies circle but they can’t get inside,
We built this in blood, in the truth we confide.
Grove’s more than a set, it’s the soul that we keep,
The hood don’t sleep, and the green runs deep.

For Grove Street - CJ x Grove Street [Bonus Track]

/// LETRA ///
Climbing ridges high,
echoes split the sky,
rope pulls, sparks of flame,
falling makes the name.

Steps on crystal ground,
lost then newly found,
wind will test our way,
yet we rise each day.

From the shore to snow,
paths we cannot know,
summit calls us near,
voices strong and clear.

Gotta Climb! Climb! Climb!

Lift your eyes, let mountains sing,
threads of fate in everything;
falls don’t break the hearts that rise,
journey’s gold, the laugh’s the prize.

Up! Up! Up! Up!

Sing it loud, the echoes call,
summit waits but spirit’s all;
friendship found where cold winds fly,
snowfields hold what will not die.

Strange meals shared in song,
flavors wild and strong,
every bite a tale,
joy will never fail.

Ghosts drift, whispers low,
altars start to glow,
fallen friends return,
fires of hope still burn.

Badges mark the way,
pride in what we play,
chorus built of cheer,
keeps the climb sincere.

Gotta Climb! ¡Climb! ¡Climb!

Lift your eyes, let mountains sing,
threads of fate in everything;
falls don’t break the hearts that rise,
journey’s gold, the laugh’s the prize.

Up! Up! Up! Up!

Sing it loud, the echoes call,
summit waits but spirit’s all;
friendship found where cold winds fly,
snowfields hold what will not die.

Storms and sunlight meet,
trials beneath our feet,
every leap we take,
songs of memory make.

No crown stands alone,
gifts are shared, well-known,
hands that pull you through,
voices lifting too.

Listen, climbers all,
Peak becomes the call,
summit close at hand,
joy we understand.

Gotta Climb! ¡Climb! ¡Climb!

Lift your eyes, let mountains sing,
threads of fate in everything;
falls don’t break the hearts that rise,
journey’s gold, the laugh’s the prize.

Up! Up! Up! Up!

Sing it loud, the echoes call,
summit waits but spirit’s all;
friendship found where cold winds fly,
snowfields hold what will not die.

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 :)

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KnightKakashi

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