https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i9PzfPAc74g

Zelda

Poussières

Un groupe de jeunes gens se constitue dans un coin de campagne. Au même moment, une soeur et un frère se retrouvent dans une situation périlleuse... 
"Histoire d'une invention" est un récit dans lequel la musique joue la plupart des rôles principaux.

Histoire d'une invention ---- Chap. 3 - 1 (La route)

L'elisir d'amore (The Elixir of Love) is a tragicomic opera (opera buffa) in two acts by the Italian composer Gaetano Donizetti. The opera premiered on 12 May 1832 at the Teatro della Canobbiana in Milan.

The plot:
L’elisir d’amore follows Adina, the beautiful but fickle landowner, and Nemorino, the clumsy but lovable young man, through the ups and downs of their love story. Nemorino is madly in love with Adina, but Adina holds him at arm’s length, feigning indifference to tease him. Over and over again, he professes his love to her, but she tells him to move on. Adina teases him by pretending to marry the pompous Sergeant Belcore. Desperate, Nemorino purchases an “elixir” that will make Adina fall in love with him, which actually is red wine that simply makes him tipsy. Convinced that she will fall for him, he begins to pretend not to love her anymore, which causes Adina to act out of jealousy, moving the wedding forward. After many twists and turns, Adina finally realizes and confesses her love for Nemorino, and they rejoice with the town.

With his aria "Come Paride Vezzoso" (As the graceful Paris), Belcore tries to win beautiful Adina's heart.

Lyrics:

As the graceful Paris
Handed the apple to the most beautiful woman,
my beloved country girl,
I offer you these flowers.         
But more glorious than him,
I am happier than him,
Because as a reward for my gift          
I will carry away your lovely heart.

I see clearly in that little face
That I am making my way into your heart.
It’s not surprising;
I’m gallant, I’m a sergeant;
There’s no beauty that can resist
The sight of a crest;
To Mars, the god of war,
Even the mother of love gives way.

Come Paride Vezzoso  (L'Elisir D'Amore - Gaetano Donizetti  @rehearsals)

The Fountainmaid

Dreams of the dazed
The dead speaks while life begets
False in the rapture
The fairy wails
In your eyes against demise
Fire on the fountain

Stolen by, ruled by desire
All my love, torn pieces of myself

Your sweet lipper taste
Roll it back & sleep the pain
Excommunication.
Disenchanted,
Disavowed by the wrong,
Fortress of my own

Glorified, born in the fires of sorrow
All the laughs, feed, crawl in denial
Spread and fly, forever now

Fear, not the light of dawn
Touch my shadow, and dusk shall follow
Face me, now I'm alive
Not tomorrow, my time is borrowed
For all my sorrow, I will follow

The Fountainmaid (demo)

Flygtning

May do a stripped or acoustic version later.

The Moonlight Sessions

Glow

The feeling of finding out we are not alone in the universe.

Abductee

MY FIRST SONG I EVER WROTE.... JUST REMASTERED

EVERYDAY

Reflection

Return To Midnight

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