Is this the same recording from Cantor Tharwat's google drive? Like the one recorded in Nov 2018?

Ispateer (Great) - Cantor Tharwat Nady

Tenen - Bola Mounir

English Translation:

O Christ, our God, You who wept over Jerusalem
Because it did not recognize the time of its visitation
And did not respond to the call of repentance,
Accept in Your tears the bitterness of my tears,
Heal my pains with Your suffering,
Soothe my wounds with Your wounds,
Sanctify my blood with Your blood,
Sanctify my body through receiving Your living body.
Kyrie eleison, Lord have mercy.

O You who stretched out Your body on the cross,
Draw to You my mind, which is misled by demons.
O You who bowed Your head on the cross,
Lift up my head, which has been shamed by the scorners.
O You whose most holy hands were nailed to the cross,
Bring me back from the abyss of perdition,
As Your most holy mouth has promised.

O You who accepted the slap and spitting on the face from the hypocrites,
Cleanse my defiled face from disgrace.
Do not let me stray from You,
For You surrendered Your spirit to the Father on the cross.
Kyrie eleison, Kyrie eleison, O Lord, have mercy.

I have no contrite heart to seek You,
I have no repentance or humility to return me to innocence.
I have no tears, O my Lord,
For my mind has been darkened by the worries of life,
And it cannot look up to You with grief.
My heart has grown cold from the severity of trials,
And it can no longer be warmed with the tears of love.

But You, O Lord Jesus Christ, O Treasure of all goodness,
Grant me perfect repentance and a contrite heart,
So that I may go out seeking You,
For without You, I am a stranger to all prayer.
Kyrie eleison, Kyrie eleison, O Lord, have mercy.

Grant me, then, Your grace, O Good One.
You who were eternally begotten of the Father without time,
Renew within me the features of Your image.
I have forsaken You, do not forsake me.
I have separated myself from You, do not abandon me.
But lead me into Your pasture,
And make me dwell among Your chosen flock.

Feed me with the richness of Your divine mysteries,
Where the pure heart beholds the radiance of Your revelations,
Which are a comfort and joy to those who have struggled for Your sake in tribulations,
And have endured various afflictions.

That we may be made worthy of this vision by Your grace and Your love for mankind,
Through all ages, and by the working of Your Holy Spirit,
As we now call upon the Creator and Sustainer of all,
With the hymn of the children, saying:

Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name,

Fraction: O Christ, our God, Who Wept Over Jerusalem-Fr. Boktor Nessim | قسمة يا من بكيت على أورشليم

In a music industry hellbent on algorithmic trends and hollow flexes, Lux Coven shows up like a ghost with perfect aim. His new track “The Tool That Talks” sounds like a blues preacher from the underworld stumbled into a trap house with a harmonica and a war journal. And here’s the catch: the voice you’re hearing isn’t even his.

Lux Coven is a songwriter first, and a visionary next-gen performer who uses AI vocal synthesis to bring his haunting stories to life. Not as a gimmick — but as a delivery system for songs too heavy for mainstream throats to carry. And when he does drop a full solo album using his real voice? You’ll already know the name.

🔫 Southern Sermons in a Chambered Round
“The Tool That Talks” isn’t just a clever title — it’s a philosophy. The lyrics grip like a revolver passed down through bloodlines: dusty, lawful, poetic, and dangerous. Lux doesn’t glorify violence. He interrogates it. Guns, in his hands, become characters — prophets, betrayers, relics.

“Gun ain’t evil, son / It’s a mirror made of fire”

That line could’ve been scrawled in the margins of scripture. What we’re witnessing is a songwriter reclaiming symbolism — not through cheap metaphors, but through generational memory. It’s hip-hop as oral history, country as battle cry, blues as psychic residue.

🎛️ The New Age Outlaw Sound
Produced like an old vinyl found in a forgotten armory, the track unfolds in 432 Hz with ambient gun clicks, steel guitar moans, harmonica bleed, and whispered tape hiss. The AI voice — tuned to Lux’s specifications — croons and growls like a ghost of Delta blues past merged with future tech.

This isn’t autotune. It’s artificial resurrection. A hologram of pain, powered by human scars.

“They all strapped up / So I keep mine close—
Ain’t no mercy / When the steel gets chose.”

The hook feels like it’s been echoing across southern backroads since Reconstruction. But it’s brand new — because Lux is writing the past forward.

🧠 33:64 — The Clock That Doesn’t Exist
The album art is a Haitian-style oil painting of a lawless western town. But look closer — you’ll spot a digital clock frozen at 33:64. An impossible time.

For Lux Coven fans, this is standard procedure. Nothing is literal. Every number is a cipher. Every visual a sigil. Every song a riddle wrapped in trauma, faith, and divine revenge. That time stamp is not a glitch — it’s a test. Do you see what time it really is?

🩸 AI Ain’t the Artist — It’s the Bullet
Some artists use AI as a shortcut. Lux uses it as a weapon. It’s the bullet. He’s the gun. Every line is loaded. Every vocal manipulation is intentional. And when the time comes for the real voice to step forward, the message will already be felt in the bones.

This isn’t a tech stunt. It’s a spiritual tactic.

“The devil fears the man / who’s got one bullet left / and still chooses when to pull.”

That bridge alone cements Lux as one of the most dangerous pens in music today — with or without a mic in hand.

👁 FINAL VERDICT
“The Tool That Talks” is a declaration of artistic war — not just against genre limitations, but against the cultural amnesia plaguing modern music. It’s soul. It’s survival. It’s prophecy delivered through an AI shell — until the real voice arrives to finish what’s been started.

Lux Coven isn’t playing with machines. He’s training them to speak truth.

And the industry? They’re about to find out what it means when the tool starts talking back.

THE TOOL THAT TALKS

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Ispateer (Great) - Cantor Tharwat Nady

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