Talks A Lot

I don’t think in good or bad,
I just do things and deal with it later.
Sometimes it’s a mess,
sometimes it’s nothing at all.
Not everything’s a lesson,
sometimes it’s just life happening.

I want it raw, I want it dark,
the bruises are the truest part.
Don’t dress my pain in silver lines,
I learn the most when I don’t shine.
I don’t want perfect, I don’t want clean,
I want the dirt that shows I’ve been.
The mess, the ache, the nights I break
and sometimes I like it that way.

I keep the wound open so I can feel it.
I take the risk when I know the cost.
I burn my bridges just to watch the fire,
and sometimes I smile at the smoke.
I don’t call it progress,
but it feels like being alive.

I want it raw, I want it dark,
the bruises are the truest part.
Don’t dress my pain in silver lines,
I learn the most when I don’t shine.
I don’t want perfect, I don’t want clean,
I want the dirt that shows I’ve been.
The mess, the ache, the nights I break
and sometimes I like it that way.

I’m not holy, I’m not shame.
I’m not one thing you can name.
If the dark is half of me,
I won’t lock it away.

I want it raw, I want it dark,
the bruises are the truest part.
Don’t dress my pain in silver lines,
I learn the most when I don’t shine.
I don’t want perfect, I don’t want clean,
I want the dirt that shows I’ve been.
The mess, the ache, the nights I break
and sometimes I like it that way.
And sometimes I like it that way.

like it that way

Indie Pop, Dreampop, Hypnagogic Pop, Chillwave, Neo-Psychedelica, Jangle Pop, Bedroom Pop, Indie Rock, Alternative

periphery of day.

I learned early not to ask for too much
someone always had it worse.
If I cried, they said, “You’re fine,”
so I learned to smile first.
Some of us had parents fighting,
some just had the silence thick as walls.
Either way, I learned to shrink
before I learned to call.

I build exits into every conversation,
I pull away before you know my name.
Call it coping, call it preservation,
but it’s fear wearing someone else’s face.
Yeah, I build exits into every conversation
and then I hate the quiet that remains.

Some of us grew up fixing things
we didn’t break ourselves.
Some of us got used to praise
that only came when we excelled.
I say I’m busy when I’m lonely,
I ghost before I’m ghosted back.
I joke too soon, I care too late,
I call it freedom, but it’s lack.

I build exits into every conversation,
I pull away before you know my name.
Call it coping, call it preservation,
but it’s fear wearing someone else’s face.
Yeah, I build exits into every conversation and then I hate the quiet that remains.

I’m not heartless, I’m rehearsed.
Every kindness comes with proof.
I wait for people to leave
just to say, “See? I knew.”
I call it strong, I call it smart,
but really, it’s just scared dressed sharp.

I build exits into every conversation,
turn open doors into escape plans.
Call it coping, call it survival,
but I’m still that kid, just grown-up hands.
Yeah, I build exits into every conversation
and I wish I knew how not to.

exits

Indie Pop, Dreampop, Hypnagogic Pop, Neo-Psychedelica, Indie Rock, Chillwave, Bedroom Pop, Slowcore, Alternative

we’re not alone

Heaven Sent

Do you think it will go away
Time and the cold have a funny way of doing things
And if you look away it will come right up behind you
As you turn your head
It runs in front
Now
Baby
What's it gonna be?
There's no room for uncertainty
Time and the cold will make sure you don't get left behind

Now tell me what you need

Because time will fade away
And leave you in the cold
Time will fade away
And leave you in the cold
Time will fade away
And leave you in the cold
Time will fade away
And leave you in the cold


How Times Fade Away

Shako Mako

Higher & Higher (Remix)

This powerful piece delves into the intense internal conflict of a person split into two warring selves: a cynical, despairing "I" and an optimistic, hopeful "he" who calls himself the soul. They inhabit the same existence, a shared "black hole," yet perceive the world in diametric opposition. Where one sees only bleakness and runs down "the darkest streets," the other sees color, finds joy in rain, and marvels at smiling flowers. This creates a relentless psychological tug-of-war, where every daily moment—from watching TV to finishing a meal—becomes a battleground between bitterness and grace, between a "master and a creep."

The tension escalates as the narrator catalogues their differences: one self is fun-loving and trusting, while the other is sour, watchful, and locked behind fences of mistrust. The chorus acts as the bitter self's anthem, a lament from the shadows directed at those who live in the light "above." However, a crucial shift begins when the voice of "Mr. Black" interrupts, demanding action. This sparks a moment of integration and rebellion; the two sides finally communicate, with Mr. Black urging a reckless turn of the wheel and Mr. Pink agreeing to "grab a drink." What was once a civil war becomes a potential partnership.

The poem concludes not with the eradication of one self, but with a hard-worn pact of unification. The final lines transform the opening stanza: "we're joining forces upon my soul / I will rock each time he rolls." This suggests an acceptance of the internal duality, a commitment to balance where the strength of one compensates for the vulnerability of the other. The journey ends not in the elimination of the dark streets, but in a newfound, resilient solidarity to face them together, rocking and rolling through life's complexities as one complete, if complicated, human being.

The Two of Us

A minimal a cappella track featuring deep male baritone and soft female vocals singing together. Slow, intimate, and melancholic, set in a minor key with a raw, stripped-down delivery. Emotional, atmospheric, and deeply introspective.

exits

LOVUL