AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHGFHGHGHFHFHFHFHHAVAHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I keep coming back listening to Mitski few times a month I might be cooked

tyyy this literally got me through the school day i love this playlist sm

And I sit on the curb 'cause it's the prettiest night
With no one else in sight
You know I wore this dress for you
These killer heels for you
See the dark it moves
With every breath of the breeze!!!!!!!

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adalezia playlist

Mitski-Circle

Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart - Mitski

Mitski - Because Dreaming Costs Money My Dear

tag you’re it by melanie martinez sped up and reverbed ꨄ

tag youre it - melanie martinez [spedup+reverb]

Real Men - Mitski

Let's follow the lead of the corpses and dance. The dance of corpses. Let's follow the lead of the corpses and dance. Something which has become possessed has become An unwilling traveler on the path to the underworld Hatred and malice will gladly share In this joyful journey. This dance of corpses will empty your head of thoughts, pa-para-para ~  An invitation for you who wish to die. To part from that sad, fleeting world, Here is a sweet, sweet paradise, will not you come?  The dance of corpses, the dance of corpses, For living on is an exercise in suffering Following this joyful march, that rotten. Sausage is crammed into the hole in that heart.  This happy and fun march of corpses. I'll kindly make you one of us as well. A crowd of evil spirits join the fray as well, come let's dance in the graveyard, cha-cha-oo! The dance of corpses. As for the way to dance ... as for the way to dance ... As for the way to dance along to the march of corpses ...Just showing that deathly form from time to time, just that alone. Delivering capital punishment to that hated self, round and round, setting free those thoughts. To start off, take a step, and another, and another, that's the way! Will not you come along? The dance of corpses, the dance of corpses, Running off to the underworld is it's own comfort, is not it? Stuffing oily fat into the creases of the brain. In that joyful sacred ground. The dance of corpses, the dance of corpses, For living on is an exercise in suffering. Following this joyful march, that rotten Sausage is crammed into the hole in that heart. The happy and fun march of corpses, Your place is here among us as well. A crowd of evil spirits join the fray as well, come, let's dance in the graveyard, let's dance in the graveyard, let's dance in the graveyard, cha-cha-oo! The dance of corpses, the dance of corpses, This happy and fun march of corpses. 	I'll kindly make you one of us as well. A crowd of evil spirits join the fray as well, come, let's dance in the graveyard, let's dance in the graveyard, let's dance in the graveyard.


【Hatsune Miku】Corpse Dance (しかばねの踊り) English Lyrics in the Description

дно

Puberty 2

A Loving Feeling

Bury Me At Makeout Creek

Drunk Walk Home

Jobless Monday

Be the Cowboy

Why Didn't You Stop Me?

"Fear Garden es una cancion original de Vocaloid. En esta canción, Rin tiene una obsesión por las flores y las manos, entonces decide cortarle las manos a los demás Vocaloids que trabajan o estudian en la misma escuela que ella para "plantarlas" en macetas y decorar su jardín secreto. Al final, dice que todo es mentira pero luego se rie como si en verdad fue cierto y aparece una imagen de ella, en una alfombra ensangrentada frente a una mano de uñas amarillas en una maceta, dando a pensar que se cortó su propia mano."
Intérprete: Rin Kagamine

Acá les dejo la letra para que hagan un poco de karaoke nwn/

Romaji:
hitotsu, futatsu, mittsu, yottsu, itsutu, muttsu, nanatsu, to!
migi kara haeteru ude wo hikko-muite
ueki-bachi ni tsuki-sashite mirune
hito-sashi yubi to naka-yubi wo karame

suteki suteki na hana no kansei
oniwa niwa kirei na
otete ga takusan saitete
hitotsu mo onaji mono wa nai-desho
kyoufu Garden (x7)
datte nigeteka-naide
dare nimo ienai himitsu no hana-zono
uchi-ake rarenai himitsu no hana-zono

Aaaah
Aaaahh
Aaaah...

totemo kirei nanoyo yubi ga go-hon
tama niwa yon-hon
omeme wo hojikutte mite goran
uso yo uso zenbu uso nano(x4)
tabun ne... fufufu

Español:
Uno, Dos, Tres, Cuatro, Cinco, Seis, Siete...Diez!!!

Las veo nacer desde el brazo derecho y las arranco
intento colocarlas en mis vasijas
combinando el dedo indice con el medio
la confección de mis hermosas hermosas flores!

En mi precioso jardin
montones de bellas flores de manos hay
No es un jardin comun, no es verdad?

Jardin del miedo
Jardin del miedo
Jardin del miedo
Jardin del miedo
Jardin del miedo
Jardin del miedo
Jardin del miedo
No escaparas de el!!!

No puedo decirle a nadie sobre mi jardin secreto
No confesare nada sobre mi jardin secreto
Ahhhhh....
ahhhh

Son tan lindas con cinco dedos
a veces solo cuatro
ven... observalas con atención...

Una mentira, mentira... todo esto es mentira...
Una mentira, mentira... todo esto es mentira...
Una mentira, mentira... todo esto es mentira...
Una mentira, mentira... todo esto es mentira...

Quizas!!!

Fear Garden - Kagamine Rin

Bag Of Bones - Mitski

Original Japanese version form Pokemon Red and Green

Lavender Town (Original Japanese Version)

Lotta True Crime

Sometimes, Mitski feels life would be easier without hope, or a soul, or love. But when she closes her eyes and thinks about what’s truly hers, what can’t be repossessed or demolished, she sees love. “The best thing I ever did in my life was to love people,” she says. “I wish I could leave behind all the love I have after I die, so I can shine all this goodness, all this good love that I’ve created onto other people.” She hopes her newest album, The Land Is Inhospitable and So Are We, will shine love long after she’s gone. That’s precisely how it feels: like a love that’s haunting the land.

“This is my most American album,” she says. The music feels like a profound act of witnessing this country, in all of its private sorrows and painful contradictions. Sonically Mitski’s most epic and wise album, the songs introduce wounds and then actively heal them. Here, love is time-traveling to bless our tender days, like light from a distant star.

It's full of the ache of the grown-up, seemingly mundane heartbreaks and joys that are often unsung but feel enormous. It’s a tiny epic. From the bottom of a glass, to a driveway slushy with memory and snow, to a freight train barreling through the Midwest, and all the way to the moon, it feels like everything and everyone is crying out in pain, arching towards love. Love is that inhospitable land, beckoning and then rejecting us. To love this place, this earth, this America, this body takes work. It might be impossible. The best things are.

Drunk Walk Home

Mitski

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