I spend my days alone. I was generally viewed with disdain and repulsion despite approaching people with kindness. I would either be made fun of or beaten... So, I would often find myself daydreaming about 'sky burials' and think that perhaps that would be the best love I'd ever receive.

To be consumed at my death... To be wanted by someone... For something.

When I met Thom, he was just 19 years old. Alone as I was. A singer and guitarist, we wrote this after a conversation about ways we expected to die. I told him of my "sky burial" idea and he thought it would make a great song. We wrote this in the span of a night. Afterwards, he spent the night after a hearty meal and a shared joint. The next morning, we exchanged solemn goodbyes and he walked onward into the mist.

I never saw him again after that. 

Gracious Offering To The Vultures (ft. Thom Ackerlund)

I would daydream about going into bathouses... Letting anyone have their way with me. Won't ask who they were, never seeing their face, never know their name. To remove unclear feelings about my end. 

Lyrics: 

I bathe in ritual
I offer myself to strangers in the shadows

I let them all inside
I let them bless me with a gift of true mortality

Tear me open
Sow your gift within my soil
I won't refuse
seromony conversion 

I used to be afraid
Until I started fading into my conclusion

Now I get to decide
To leave behind a world that I was forced into

Tear me open
Sow your gift within my soil
I won't refuse
seromony conversion

Come inside 
Come inside me



The Last +

When I met Harlot Keenan, I was at a bar in town distracting myself with a highball of some brown liquor I received as a "surprise". She looked like a sibling of death... her gaunt, pale, figure covered in elegant black clothing. Her face raw with misery underneath the ghostly white makeup she wore. 

She never came across as timid... She was on-the nose with her feelings at all times. Intimidating to those who didn't understand the depths of misery. However, I did. Recognizing the tone in her voice, I asked if she was a singer. In a thick Crawley accent she said yes... One Marijuana laced conversation at my home led to us creating this.

In the vocal booth, she performed completely naked... Scars covering her body in strangely organised ways. She said to me when she noticed my gaze upon her rippled flesh: "If I'm to suffer in the world... I'll suffer artfully."  Her unfiltered self had my undivided attention... And my deepest admiration. 

Lyrics: 

I don't mind if you beat me anymore
I don't mind if you bruise me, or cut me
I don't mind if you break my skin and bones
I don't mind if you hate me, or kill me.
 
I don't mind if you beat me anymore
I don't mind if you bruise me, or cut me
I don't mind if you break my skin and bones
I don't mind if you hate me, or kill me.

For once I feel a purpose
For once I now feel useful
I give myself to you
Disgrace me - discard me as you choose

I don't mind (I don't mind) if you hurt me all over
You can take me and rip me into shreds
I don't mind (I don't mind) if you ruin all that's left
You can take me and sever all my limbs

Cauterize my wounds
make me a new lump of flesh
Bathe me in my blood and mess
nothing left but stumps
This is the right way
sacrifice my body, god.
I am nothing more or less
I can't even scream
I can't even scream out for you

Sacrificial (sacrifice me)
Sacrificial (sacrifice me God)
Sacrificial (sacrifice me)
Sacrificial (sacrifice me God) 
Sacrificial (sacrifice me)
Sacrificial (sacrifice me God)
Sacrificial (sacrifice me)
Sacrificial (sacrifice me God)

I don't mind if you beat me anymore
I don't mind if you bruise me, or cut me
I don't mind if you break my skin and bones
I don't mind if you hate me, or kill me.

Sacrificial (ft Harlot Keenan)

I am a songwriter and producer. I spend my life at home alone, recording with gear slowly acquired over years. I occasionally work with anonymous souls who revel in the same darkness that I do. 

I'll make this music until I'm finished living.

Nikolas Münzen

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