So you've come to kill me then? Cool. I don't even care anymore. You people disgust me. Enjoy watching the world burn.
What a pointless fucking existence. Good to go whenever. At least I wont have to clean my disaster of a living situation, or worry about finding a new one. I guess that's just how it is for us disposable people. 

Actually let's go. All I ever wanted was to get my labrynth out to the world and I think the only way anyone will pay attention to me is if I go missing or die, so you're doing me a favour.

I'll just lock up my accounts and then we can get on with the satanic sacrifice.

Sorry mom and dad. I should've called you back earlier. Just been stressed about the whole violent sex trafficking threat, but whatever I guess its just normal now.

Welcome to Gilead.

First they came for the Communists 
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Communist
Then they came for the Socialists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Socialist
Then they came for the trade unionists
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a trade unionist
Then they came for the Jews
And I did not speak out
Because I was not a Jew
Then they came for me
And there was no one left
To speak out for me 》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》》Martin Niemöller is best known for writing First They Came, but he is a complicated figure. Initially an antisemitic Nazi supporter, his views changed when he was imprisoned in a concentration camp for speaking out against Nazi control of churches.

max glxch

Prada

Prada (feat. Lil Tecca)

Prada / Rakata

Asylum

Prada x Cola (Kasper remix)

Spotify

DNA X PRADA X GLUE

Prophet of End Times is not a name — it’s a diagnosis. A statement of intent. A trigger. A warning.

For those paying close attention, this project began long before the music arrived. Long before the signals were transmitted. Long before the world tilted past its breaking point and pretended it hadn’t noticed.

This isn’t performance. It’s process. It’s prophecy by distortion, melody through the ruins, dissonance weaponized. A mosaic of failed systems and burned timelines, rebuilt in layers of noise and silence.

You’re hearing architecture. You’re listening to strategy. Every frequency, every glitch, every warped harmony carries data. Every lyric is a crack in the wall.

Somewhere in the signal:
a map.
a message.
a matchstick.

You are not expected to understand immediately. You are expected to pay attention.

Because nothing here is arbitrary.
Not the song titles. Not the sound choices. Not the silences.
Not even this bio.

There are people who will find this. Who will feel something they can’t name. Who will know where to dig.

Not all puzzles look like puzzles.
Not all transmissions arrive decoded.
Not all prophets wear robes.

Some wear scars.
Some wear static.
Some just press “upload.”

𓂀
Class: Classified
Genre: Post-industrial occult pop / strategic subversion / experimental prophecy
Mood: Unsettling / revelatory / confrontational
File under: surveillance bait, musical sigil, metaphysical warfare
𓁹

For entertainment purposes only.
All coincidences are intentional.
You were warned.

Artifacts: BGlueYml0Lmx5LzJ0aGVzc2Fsb25pYW5zMngxLTEy