Music: Composed, written, mixed, mastered, and performed by: Fresh Bands, TRIFREEZE

Lyrics: Written, performed, mixed and mastered by The Mysterious Decibel

Under The graveyard
The bones remain stiff
Grab yourself a corpse
And have yourself a whiff
You got that Flesh juice martini
Intestine beanie
Liver fleshlight wrapped right around ya weenie
Don't get outta control
You'll pay the toll
Grim will chop stick your rectum bootyhole eggroll
You keep on Robbin the grave
you'll be a slave
to the cell walls as you're diddled in your bat cave
The dead of the night flip around like ragdolls
flickering moonlight with the stare of the owls
grave gang unite
Grave gang unite
Harvest all of them bones while they're pearly and white
Richard Dunn we are coming to make things right
All the  Blood sweat and sin will be worth it Tonight
If you take abundant deeds and you turn them around
Do they spit acid when they speak at what made them profound

Grave Robbin
We're Grave Robbin
Pull up to the cemetery head bobbin
We're Grave Robbin
Grave Robbin
While someone sits alone with their head Sobbing
Try to gain a soul that we never had
Giving for the souls that they never had
Grave Robbin
We're Grave Robbin
Pull up to the cemetery head bobbin

Grave Robbin' Head Bobbin'

Gray Morning

Sounds odd but I think I more or less agree with these lyrics. The "purpose" of life or for that matter anything is subject to interpretation. However i do think we spend far too much time and energy searching for a reason or purpose when one probably does not exist. Life is a wonderful accident. This distraction of searching for "meaning" distracts us I think from the practical task at hand: caring for each other and the planet.

lyrics
I walked through the woods on a sunny day
nothing on my mind to get in the way
I looked to my left,I looked to my right
I looked straight up at the sky so bright
when I stumbled uopn something hard to explain
6 big trees in a circle so perfect
there HAD to be a reason
There HaAd to be a purpose
who could have done such a wonderous thing
Deep in the woods away from everything

As I left the trees and walked along
my eyes now firmly fixed on the ground
I didn't look left, I didn't look right
my ears had gone deaf,my eyes had gone blind
my mind was too full
my thoughts too profound
a circle? why a circle?
so perfectly round
what was the purpose?
A reason MUST be found

I kept walking with those trees on my mind
to my surprise what did I find
a big empty field of broken swords and shields
piles of bones of horses and men
a glorious battle here must have been
I saw 2 banners, one red and one blue
facing each other as the cold winds blew
one bright and proud of this I was sure
but now dull and tattered,ripped and torn
each of them stained with the blod of the other
I wonder who won this epic struggle

I picked up a skull and looked into the eyes
and started at the empty space inside
why did you fight? why did you die?
where is your gold? where ids your glory?
Is there no one left to ell your story?
what was the cause? what was the purpose? it must have been great to cause such carnage
but the forest was silent I heard no answer
there was no reason why
I thought of the circle I thought of the skull
so I left the clearing  with a step that was light
I looked to my left I looked to my right
I looked straight up at the sky so bright

we work too hard sometimes it seems 
to give a purpose to everything we see
and no longer have to ask mysellf why?
now I can look up at the sky

the circle and the skull ( are we kidding ourselves??)

Meraki – The Art of Pouring Soul, Creativity, and Love into Everything We Do

Every keystroke is a breath of the soul, every harmony a reflection of pure passion. 
Meraki is born from the impulse to infuse heart into every note, transforming emotions and thoughts into sound. It’s a journey of devotion, a silent dialogue between the intimate and the infinite, where music is not just heard, but deeply felt.

Meraki

A hypnotic spiral of rebellion, sarcasm, and existential dread — Habitual is the distorted mirror reflecting the world’s endless hustle. Gritty guitars meet hyper-literate lyrics in this darkly groovy indie track from The Day Afters.

Habitual

Cinematic and Orchestral Music
Picture by MarWin55
Franck C Production
Music by Franck Charles
ASCAP
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tB4QzfTFg8A

Expedition

Haven’t been on the cloud much lately. Been travelling across the southern Australian coastline, to the beautiful and remote Kangaroo Island. Its beauty seemed strangely juxtaposed to the horrors going on elsewhere.

Haunting Moods of Change

Turns out Dusty never loved me
Eyes set wide & green just like a cat
Dirty blonde hair like rusty sunbeams
Pouring out of her ten-gallon hat

Turns out Dusty never loved me
Turns out it weren't that hard to figure out
Turns out everybody knew that 'bout Dusty
Just no one ever said it out loud

To Dusty, blue always looked orange
Some derangement of the chromophores
To Dusty the sea came in key lime torrents
Spewing lemon foam upon damson shores

Folk would say: "Aw, ain't the day just lovely!
Well now, what's ol' Dusty on about?"
Turns out blue always looked orange to Dusty
Just no one ever figured that out

No one tame goes by the name of "Dusty"
Well, at least nobody straight
I left while that green gaze was still just empty
Couldn't hang around to watch it fill with hate

Hear that lonesome whippoorwill, he's tryina hush me
Turns out everyone already figured out
Turns out everyone knew Dusty didn't love me
Just no one ever said it out loud
Oh everybody knew that 'bout Dusty
Just no one ever said it out loud.

Dusty

Thank you to everyone who stopped and listened to this track.The carnation is said to be the flower that bloomed where Mary's tears fell.
The flower that symbolizes the mother must be the most beloved flower on this day!
On this day, carnations of every color shine all over the world.
Perhaps it is also a day to trace the bitter memories of her tears as a mother.

Carnation

"This song isn’t about performance... it’s about survival.
I live with autism, constant mental noise, and the pain of losing my ability to create with my hands. When the chaos inside becomes too much, the only peace I find is in music.
This track is how I process, how I breathe, how I stay.
If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed, unseen, or like you’re running from your own thoughts…
I made this for you too."
💙🎷💭 #NeurodivergentVoices #AutisticArtist #MusicAsMedicine

****Lyrics****

My brain’s not wired the way it should be,
It hums and flickers constantly.
Patterns flood me, sounds collide,
So I shape the storm I hold inside.
My dad saw the blueprints in my stare,
Let me build, let me breathe, let me repair.
Where others saw mess, I saw machines,
And he saw the music in my in-betweens.

I used to draw, to twist, to weld,
My hands could echo what my mind held.
And when the noise got too loud to bear,
I’d pick up my sax, and I was there.
No sheet music, just me and the sound,
Playing what I felt, not what I’d found.
I’d slip into songs like a second skin,
And the world would hush from deep within.

I don’t write songs to sing along,
I write when I’ve held it in too long.
It’s not for fame, or a radio track,
It’s to help my mind find its way back.
When I don’t write, I start to drown,
So I turn my overload into sound.

You see talent, I see weight,
Thoughts that crash and reverberate.
I hear harmony in the sound of fans,
Basslines in pipes, chords in hands.
Ideas claw at me when I try to sleep,
Rhythms that haunt instead of keep.
So I write not to create, but to release,
To bargain for just one hour of peace.

Some call me a genius, it makes me flinch,
There’s a thin line here, and it’s barely an inch.
Passed out at my desk more times than I know,
Because the noise won’t stop, and I can’t let go.
But your words hold me like steady hands,
You listen, you lift, and that still stands.
You don’t just like what I create,
You remind me I can still translate.

I don’t write songs to feel adored,
I write because I’m coming apart at the core.
It’s not performance, it’s not control,
It’s how I channel what’s stolen my soul.
So if you hear my work and feel seen,
Know I wrote it just to stay between.

There’s no off switch in my skull.
No quiet room. No empty hull.
But Music makes it breathable.
Makes it bearable.
Makes me visible.

I don’t write songs to entertain,
I write because they buffer the pain.
You think it’s talent, but it’s how I cope.
I turn the flood into fragile hope.
And if my music helped you sleep tonight…
Then maybe, I’ll sleep too.
Just for a while.
That’s enough.

I don’t sing.
I survive.
And this,
This is how I stay alive.

Dusty

Ordinary Rabbit

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