As the ashes fall, as you're stuck with me
Too much to bear but too little to be
Should be on our way
We were too afraid, you have to go away

This time I hear no echo
This time no one's there
So why doesn't it feel like I'm talking to myself?

You got so close I lost a part of me (I lost a part of me)
You were my goal of losing everything (of losing everything)

This time I hear no echo
This time no one's there
So why doesn't it feel like I'm talking to myself?

Talking to myself, talking to myself, talking to myself, talking to myself, talking to myself, talking to myself, talking to myself, talking to myself, talking to myself, talking to myself, talking to myself

This time I hear no echo
This time no one's there
So why doesn't it feel like I'm talking to myself?

Talking To Myself

Price of Sympathy

The song is about surrendering to forbidden knowledge that carves itself into the soul. Ancient symbols and whispers draw the mind into darkness, revealing truths too heavy to bear.

Ritual Sign

4th album of Ghost Ryder. Born from rebellion, and founder of the AI:Underground movement. This album show cases that AI is a tool to expand human expression, not replace it. Featuring multiple AI artist from AI:U, Ghost aims to show the versatility and capabilities of AI artist. Breaking boundaries this album shows us with AI, we truly have no limitations.

Ghost Ryder

Synth Pop

Lyrics ✨

Most don’t get it, they never will
This quiet war inside, so still
Not for drama, not for show
Just trying not to let go

No corner offered, no place to be
Fighting for space invisibly
I hear you, I feel you deep
In the silence we both keep

You’re not wrong for wanting light
To be seen, to be held right
But you did what few begin
You cracked your code from within

It’s not death, it’s shedding skin
Everything false falls off again
Too quiet, too wide, too heavy to hold
This void is the cost of being bold

It’s not the end, it’s the unnamed start
A hush that echoes through your heart
You’re not alone in this unseen scene
You’re just living in the in-between

The fog came slow, never left
Music dulled, light bereft
Laughter borrowed, footsteps strange
The world around begins to change

Not ready, just done with the wait
Tired of carrying unspoken weight
But still you sit, still you breathe
In the stillness, you believe

And if you could go, just disappear
No eyes on you, no voice to hear
Where would you land, what would you see?
What place would finally let you be?

It’s not the end, it’s the unnamed start
A hush that echoes through your heart
You’re not alone in this unseen scene
You’re just living in the in-between

The In-Between

A dark dive into addiction — you know this poison is slowly killing you, but it’s the only thing that makes you feel alive.

You're Worth The Pain

I will be waiting for you at the end of your dreams.

Misread Fall

The Covenant Unto Thee

Fractured Kin — “Save You From Yourself”

Some battles don’t leave bruises — they leave ghosts.
“Save You From Yourself” drags you straight into the dark side of addiction, where escape feels like comfort and destruction feels familiar.

This song moves like a slow collapse — heavy, suffocating, and relentless. The riffs crawl and crush, the drums pound like a heart under pressure, and her voice carries the ache of watching someone disappear while still standing right in front of you. It’s anger, fear, love, and helplessness colliding at full volume.

This isn’t a rescue fantasy.
It’s a reckoning.

“Save You From Yourself” captures the brutal truth: you can fight for someone with everything you’ve got — but the darkest enemy is the one living inside them. Every lyric bleeds frustration and sorrow, every chorus screams the same impossible question — how do you save someone who won’t stop pulling the trigger themselves?

Fractured Kin doesn’t glamorize the fall.
They expose it.

This track is raw, unforgiving, and painfully real — a heavy anthem for those who’ve tried to pull someone back from the edge and felt their hands slip away.

Because sometimes love isn’t enough.
And sometimes the darkest fight
is the one you can’t win for them.

Save you from yourself

I seek not earthly comfort at thy hand — I crave the temple of thy noble mind.

# Lyrics
In hours unmarked by sighed sundial’s faithful shade,
When all the world doth yield to Morpheus’ keep,
I find myself a pilgrim, sore dismayed,
Through corridors of sorrow, vast and deep.

'Tis not the body’s malady keeps me wake—
'Tis something elder, born ere words had name,
A famine that no earthly bread can slake,
A frost that burns with sempiternal flame.

I’ve dwelt a thousand vigils in one night,
Mine age hath grown an hundred years ere dawn,
I’ve watched the chamber vault yield no respite,
But mock me still, enquiring why I hold on.

And then—a stirring! Lo, a distant bell,
A madrigal borne upon the evening air,
And suddenly this purgatory’s cell
Becometh Eden, ruined yet passing fair.

Thou sendest verses sealed with crimson wax,
Like manuscripts illumined by the friars,
Each stanza forms a bridge, each rhyme a tracks
That leads me from the mire to heaven’s spires.

I seek not earthly comfort at thy hand—
I crave the temple of thy noble mind,
The way thy contemplations, arching, stand
Like buttresses of cathedrals, by grace designed.

For in the unmarked hours I am most true:
Unchained from all the masks that daylight craves,
I take thee forth as scholars’ volumes do
And read thy soul beyond all courtly waves.

And thou? What dost thou when the darkness falls?
Dost thou, as I, gaze upward at the void?
Dost thou inscribe thy sorrows on thy walls,
Make peace with griefs that leave the heart destroyed?

Methinks thou dost. Methinks we share this doom:
To be most quick when others lie most still,
To speak our truths amid night’s hallowed gloom
Because the common tongue doth wound and kill.

So here I craft my psalm, my midnight plea,
Not unto Heaven—for the saints do sleep—
But unto thee, who somewhere, distantly,
Art also waking, drowning in the deep.

And blessèd most of all, I here proclaim,
Art thou, who heard’st me through the tempest’s roar—
The unmarked hour’s sole devotion’s flame,
The only shrine where I am lost no more.

The In-Between

Moon Tigress

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