Taken from ’Outer Edges Remixes’. Digital, CD and bundle available at: http://outer-edges.noisia.nl
Stream / Download: http://smarturl.it/OuterEdgesRemixes

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Outer Edges Remixes

Noisia - Get Deaded (Machinedrum Remix) [OUT NOW]

To the moon, the sun, and beyond, my lips are sealed.

May it pass to the deserving.

For whom I agitated, may the blasphemy from my mouth fade from your minds. 

No matter my past, now I live in a privileged country and can not open my mouth.

Minus in the bank has been my whole life.

Screw sympathy, screw judgement, family first, and fuck gas lighting as a label. Did everything with expecting no return. 

I am done trying to prove anything.

Not a Profit/Prophet.

Intention completed.

Said my little peace.

Untangled, 

the world went in twisted and mangled, and what came out was too hard to handle. 

Was not me that chose, forced, not me to be the rise, so opposed. 

Little ornamental small violin for this guy will play on repeat, nicely set on a mantle. 

Hope someone can light just one stubby heavenly, not pricey candle. 

He, in true light, felt I and I with his two own eyes, made to climb a mad hill. 

Now, a mountain, look up to respect, as I stand still. 

Death threats, the following has ceased. Obviously, it was private. Got squeezed. 

No heat here so no need for fan chills. Skin on me pastel, so imagine the future for he as an old man using a pan for that dangle. 

Lyrical ass full, but kept in, as it just comes out sounding like a whiny hand drill. 

Worms in a can, that can of worms can go be dismantled by the chosen ones that sound better than a "last legs" idiot on a so-called ramble. 

Talking about myself only, so be well while I fight it alone with no dang skill. 

Subconscious did a deep dable to show existence, but it is now like a freaking raffle. 

To many signs, seen and shown as threats, trust gone, now paying this mans bill. 

Meat and accociates stay in the draws, call them my shambles, 

shame balls, sham bells, over cooked dry man balls, 

and for good measure, distance smacked hand balls. 

Over into the distance, home run, for me, look to those damned hills. 

That should seal the deal for he whom is me. 

My talent - if any - self slammed killed. 

Go hard.

Mr. Gyrate, Mr. Irate, and Insomnia Johnson are no more. 

That seals the deal.

Someone wanted to repeat history and I said no!

The music in me is now dead.


God bless, and may nature forgive humans. 



welcome to my strange world and thanks pour la cefor <3
encore en apprentissage

🔮💃🏼That one black-hatted hippy rave momma with a pretty stick. 🧙🏻🪄

Let go, let flow, & let grow. 🌊

#EmbraceYourWeird