Lead life with love, and you'll never be alone.

Empathy, The Gift

Disembodied Tyrant & Synestia - The Poetic Edda (feat. Ben Duerr)

Serene

Welcome to Bonkers

The Skin Thief

Dressed as Goblins

Lyrics 

I’m not going in. Not tonight.
The rust on the gate says my name back.


Rusted arch, names in stone,
wind plays organ through the bones.
Damp earth holding in its breath,
footsteps echo—edge of death.
Windows blind, no housey grin,
walls say prayers with nothing in.


Cold air in my lungs, pulse off-beat,
a thousand eyes in the dark I can’t see.


I’m afraid of graveyards, afraid of empty homes,
where monsters stay quiet but shadows roam.
Keep me from the gate when the bell tones roll—
I turn around before midnight folds.


Floorboards sing under iron nails,
curtains whisper, turn and bail.
Keyhole staring, stairs want truth,
roof drips questions I won’t prove.


A kiss of fog across old ground—
everything still somehow loud.


(as above, bigger)


Clockstrike / heartbeat—count with me.
Three—two—one: RUN. Let the house just be.


NOT THAT WAY! NOT THAT WAY!
STAY INSIDE THE LINE OF LIGHT!


I’m afraid of graveyards, afraid of empty homes,
but I hold together while shadows roam.
Shut that gate and let night go—
I breathe until the morning shows.


Whispers at the Gate - REMASTERED - HD

Text:
Verse 1
Twenty bucks for a cut, I pay and I’m gone,
But in parliament the blow-dry goes on.
Tax-paid powder, a smile on demand,
While justice slips right out of hand.

Pre-Chorus
They pose in the mirror, we count every cent,
That’s not glamour, it’s a crack in the cement.

Chorus
Money flows elsewhere, not where it burns,
We pay for the show, but get nothing in return.
Money flows elsewhere, not where it’s real,
Styling on the bill while the people can’t heal.

(solo)

Verse 2
Scissors in the barbershop, click-clack cheap,
But up on the hill, the gold runs deep.
Make-up on flights, we’re saving on meals,
They powder their foreheads, we’re chained to the wheels.

Pre-Chorus
They pose in the mirror, we count every cent,
That’s not glamour, it’s a crack in the cement.

Chorus
Money flows elsewhere, not where it burns,
We pay for the show, but get nothing in return.
Money flows elsewhere, not where it’s real,
Styling on the bill while the people can’t heal.

(solo)

Bridge
The scissors cut deeper than hair on the floor,
Each strand is a symbol of who they ignore.
They talk of duty, of carrying the weight,
But behind the make-up, there’s nothing but state.

Final Chorus
Money flows elsewhere, we see it so bright,
The spotlight is shining, but nothing is right.
Money flows elsewhere, we’re stuck in the rain,
They pose for the cameras, we’re left with the pain.

Dressed as Goblins

Nekrogoblikon

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