Baghdad

Tio Tåar

hellbound

Back again after some time in a world of forever increasing conflict, 
It seems now that two wrongs’ make a right?
This is My WHY' word translated to Music 
Be Safe!

Written By 2TEC,
All Instruments & Recording by 2TEC Recordings (UK)

1/12/2023

Why So Serious       By 2TEC

Thejls - En resa (Prod. Martin L.)

Thejls - The Fuel (Prod. JukeB)

Searching for Love

The Kung fu master and the Ballet dancer are the same!
No! The form is different, but the source is the same!

The Kung Fu Master And The Ballet Dancer

bangernsbanger

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Sång utan titel

You're not a victim - you're a survivor. 

Music, lyrics, photography, editing and production by ASHKOYA.

Lyrics (With translation)
Like father like son, facilitate gun runs 
Tight tether I’m bound, eliminated, stunned 
I’d rather be gone, rehabilitation none 
Nightcrawler, blue one in the chapel shunned

Neck check every other sec, lest I get decked 
In debt, seemingly inept, trying to reset 
Tied to my bed, but I don’t mean BDSM
 Just beheaded and severed, don’t even know where I’m heading yet

Trickling sickles cutting all the grass on my pastures
 Meddling middlemen, the glass jaw of an ass too 
Rippling whippings got my back lashed and refashioned
 Crippled and sick yet I crawl with passion

Trench warfare, waiting for an armistice 
Panzers blitz, barrels pointing down my pit
 My own pharmacist, I got harm assistance 
Test the sixth sense, all I see is dead friends

Yeah I’m a mess but I’m losing my baggage
 I’m not suicidal, I’m existentially challenged 
Got a hollow smile and cracking puns on the gallows 
You think I’m damaged?
I’m just existentially challenged

(Here comes the darkness)
Crash boom completely empty without rhyme or reason 
Take tone in my magpies nest’s crowsfeet zone 
With growing wings and a nail in my foot 
The other in my grave, eating off a stolen portion

The last goal of a rigged game 
My latest wound has only healed by a third 
Got a bloody stretcher for a bed in my building’s shantytown 
And what I’m relaying is just what I see so go fuck yourselves

Stranded in a rowboat with only one paddle
 Love was a game all those wasted tears 
Stumbling between betrayal, idiots and lunatics 
The white dove of peace became Hitchcock’s birds

She shot from the hip, vows with a steady voice 
I got shot in the chest because falsehood came first
 Runover, clawed, porous, bleeding myself stillborn 
Limbless pile is returning with tongue red like burning coals

(Nu kommer mörkret)

Krasch bom, helt tom utan rim och reson 
Tar ton i mitt skatbos kråkfotszon 
Med växande vingar och en spik i min fot 
Den andra i min grav, käkar på en stulen portion

Sista målet i ett riggat spel
 Mitt senaste sår har bara läkt en tredjedel 
Jag har en blodig bår som säng i husets slumkvarter
 Och vad jag återger är bara vad jag ser så fuck er

Strandad i en eka med bara en åra
 Kärlek var en lek, alla slösade tårar 
Ramlar mellan svek, dönickar och dårar
 Fredens vita duva blev till Hitchcocks fåglar

Hon sköt från höften, löften med stadig röst 
Jag blev skjuten i bröstet för falskhet kom visst först 
Överkörd, klöst, porös, blöder mig dödfödd
 Lealös drös återvänder, tungan rödglödd

The Kung Fu Master And The Ballet Dancer

Philip Alexander

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