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Alt Pop | New Alt Z and Indie Pop 2025

Lose Control

I've Tried Everything But Therapy (Part 1)

The Door

Espresso

Messy

Bad Dreams

Messy EP

Messy (Sped Up)

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One Thing

lost americana

cliché

Nice To Each Other

12 to 12

The Life of a Showgirl

The Fate of Ophelia

Storm-wet pavement,
Rain drips down her boots,
Lip-smudged vape pen,
Gasoline perfume bloom.

She rips the tape off her ribs,
Mascara streaks like roadkill oil,
Leather jacket, busted zipper,
Bike lane grin, back lane loyal.
Black lace caught on barbed wire,
Sweat-salt on her neck
Chain-hiss engine idles behind her—
Her breath ignites the dark like a fuse

Bite of copper on her lips
Anger in her knuckles rising—
The night leans in, hungry to bruise

Diesel Angel, she lights the match,
Boot heel crushing last regrets,
Silhouette in the streetlight glare,
Halo scorched, but never bent.
Gutter Angel, she hits the throttle,
Ash-kissed hair in open flame,
Crowd of ghosts behind her crying—
But she never turns to cool their shame.

Foam-slick beer on the pool table rail,
He watches her cue crack bone-clean,
Jawline stubble lined with rust,
Hands nicked up from a midnight scene.
She leans in, breath like molten sugar,
Boot tip hooks his belt loop tight,
Tongue tastes whiskey off his collar—
DJ digs in his crate for a longer night

Bassline pulse runs through her back
His hand locked on her leather sleeve—
Her kick slams the speakers like a fight

Diesel Angel, she lights the match,
Boot heel crushing last regrets,
Silhouette in the streetlight glare,
Halo scorched, but never bent.
Gutter Angel, she hits the throttle,
Ash-kissed hair in open flame,
Crowd of ghosts behind her crying—
But she never turns to cool their shame.

Alley steam curls up her thighs,
Tattoo ink hot beneath the tongues,
Silver chain pulled taut at her throat,
Heart beats hard between the lungs
She bites his ears, leaves a stripe,
Teeth shine violent as a flare,
Sirens smear against the skyline—
and she kisses him raw as they stare

Sweat fog dancing from floor to glass,
Exhaust desire, body to frame—
She drags the moon down by its hair

Diesel Angel, she lights the match,
Boot heel crushing last regrets,
Silhouette in the streetlight glare,
Halo scorched, but never bent.
Gutter Angel, she hits the throttle,
Ash-kissed hair in open flame,
Crowd of ghosts behind her crying—
But she never turns to cool their shame.

Steel breaks steel,  they run from the crash
Candles burning, wax melts slow,
Boot heels pressed against the fractured chrome—
Her final smile blows the city to ash


Diesel Angel (Chrome)

The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess

Pink Pony Club

My name is Lola young, I'm 24, from South East London.
Music is everything to me, helps me try and make sense of myself and the world around me. I'm pretty hopeless with love, as you can probably tell if you listen to the music, I can't sit still for more than 10 minutes, but I manage to figure things out through writing silly and sometimes not so silly songs.. I love you all x

Messy

Lola Young

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