Always Something More

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World 2 Drone 1  (Warning! read warning in description first!)

Stop Dwelling

https://nowyyorg9.wixsite.com/seasional-optimist/he-thinks-like-birds

Album Interactive Experience 
Irish fiddle - my friend Sophie 
nowyyorg 2024

He Thinks Like Birds

Burning Like A Million Suns

korg gadget 3.3

Magno Opere

Hands & Knees

Tender Passion

The Most Highest Prince's Love

Pay Close Attention

monsters

[Verse]
Sands shift skies bleed red
Ancient whispers fill my head
Stone on stone a kingdom climbs
Silent watchers defying time

[Prechorus]
Who built this maze who carved this throne
Who made the stars align with stone

[Chorus]
The pyramids they never speak
But they hold the answers we seek
Sands of stone sands of stone
Echoes calling from the unknown

[Verse 2]
Steps of giants carved in heat
Grains of gold beneath my feet
A riddle lost a secret burned
Time won’t tell what’s never learned

[Chorus]
The pyramids they never speak
But they hold the answers we seek
Sands of stone sands of stone
Echoes calling from the unknown

[Bridge]
Jackals howl under a silver moon
Pharaohs sleep in a dust cocoon
Shadows stretch where the ancients lie
The gods of men never die

Sands of Stone

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

Hands & Knees

Prophet of End Times

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