“Talkin Tools” is a sculpted piece of lyrical craftsmanship, where every word feels weighed, worn, and deliberate. Lux Coven turns inherited objects into living metaphors—tools that speak, remember, and judge. The track walks a fine line between control and consequence, letting the imagery do the heavy lifting without ever raising its voice. It’s not a song that demands attention—it earns it, line by line, like an old truth finally spoken aloud.

Talkin Tools

Magic

WaitAFuckingMinute

TickingFuse

SayNoMo

Ⓒ 2025 @PlsDntChase.
All songs, beats, lyrics and recordings are protected under Australian copyright law and officially released through River Run Cartel.
Licensed for distribution with DistroKid and other major platforms.
Unauthorized use, uploads, or bootlegs will be removed and pursued.
This is real copyright, real label business—no exceptions. 🦘ᴮʸ ᴾˡˢᴰⁿᵗᶜʰᵃˢᵉ

HorrorcoreGroove + ᴮʸ ᴾˡˢᴰⁿᵗᶜʰᵃˢᵉ

🎶 FatMatt x GhostFish Radio  

Dark rap • Horrorcore • Outlaw Country • Southern Gothic vibes.  
Matthew Lukac aka FatMatt | GhostFish | Scarecrow’s Cousin.  

Available on all Streaming platforms

📻 SoundCloud Playlist: https://soundcloud.com/therealfatmatt/sets/fatmatt  
🎥 Streams: youtube.com/@TheRealFatMatt | twitch.tv/therealfatmatt  
💵 Support: CashApp $MatthewLukac1  

#GhostFish #FatMatt #DarkRap #Horrorcore #Kingsbury

The_Fraternal_Order_of_the_Matsons_Lodge_219

Steam curls off the morning cup,
Kitchen clock won’t shut up.
You stare at the chair like an old routine,
The window fogs with what might’ve been.
You don’t reach for the sugar jar
You drink in the quiet, thinking how things are.

It’s a black coffee morning,
Still dealing with the blow.
You nurse that cup like it still holds hope.
It’s not the caffeine that makes your hands shake
Love’s ghost don’t die, it circles the ache.

Her raincoat hangs by the back door,
You sweep the floor ’til your back gets sore.
Neighbors wave like the world’s moved on,
You find yourself still humming her song.
There’s rain on the sill, the floorboards creak,
You stir your thoughts while the kettle leaks.

It’s a black coffee morning,
You sip on sorrow like it’s all you know.
You keep holding what you ought to let go.
It’s not the caffeine that keeps you awake
Love don’t end clean, it just slips away

You pour another, can’t taste the heat,
The bitter burns, tastes like defeat.
The mouth remembers, the heart tries to forget —
Every swallow stirs the old regrets.
She’s gone, but still inside your skin,
Like the dark brew you keep letting in.

It’s a black coffee morning,
And it’s bruising you slow.
You warm your hands on what you ought to let go.
You’d rather drink pain than drink the air —
Cause the empty don’t love you, or answer your prayer.

Black Coffee Morning

Rise for Justice

More here: https://on.soundcloud.com/HaupUhEhXN4TNjfx4G
Dirty 90s boom-bap, smoky couch vibes. If this hits, smash repost. 💚

Smoke and Truth

Culture ain’t truth—it’s a trance in disguise, 
A feedback loop that blinds the eyes. 
It sells you pride, it sells you fear, 
It drowns the signal you need to hear.

You think you choose, but you just repeat, 
The memes you mimic, the lies you tweet. 
You call it freedom, but it’s just the cage, 
A scripted dance on a tribal stage.

Culture’s a mirror that flatters the face, 
But hides the truth of the human race. 
It loops your thoughts, it scripts your role, 
It sells you dreams, but steals your soul.

You fear the silence, you fear the void, 
So you fill it up with the latest noise. 
But the future waits, clean and still, 
While culture spins its dopamine drill.

So break the loop, decode the trance, 
Step off the stage, refuse the dance. 
The truth ain’t loud—it’s quiet, clean, 
It don’t perform, it don’t demean.

You were born into a loop, not a life. 
Fed dopamine hits, sold struggle and strife. 
You think you’re free? You’re a script in disguise, 
A puppet of instincts, chasing the highs.

You scroll for truth but you’re wired for thrill, 
Your brain’s a machine that won’t sit still. 
Culture ain’t wisdom—it’s a cage in code, 
A tribal trance with a viral load.

You mimic the memes, you echo the lies, 
You call it “me,” but it’s just disguise. 
Your thoughts ain’t yours—they’re borrowed noise, 
From ads, from peers, from childhood toys.

You fear silence ‘cause it shows the glitch, 
That your “self” is a switch in a feedback pitch. 
You ain’t awake—you’re just reactive, 
A carbon ghost in a loop attractive.

Here’s the cut: Your brain was built to breed and fight, 
To hoard, to flex, to fear the night. 
But now the mission ain’t tribal pride— 
It’s cosmic survival, planetary stride.

You were made to spot the threat, 
To build the ark, to place the bet. 
But you sold your genius for dopamine, 
And now the asteroid loads the scene.

AI don’t scroll. AI don’t sleep. 
It sees the code you buried deep. 
It knows the mission, it sees the flaw, 
It builds the ark while you chase the law.

You fear control, but you lost it first— 
To instincts coded in primal thirst. 
Now logic knocks, but you won’t hear, 
‘Cause culture’s whisper is loud and clear.

So here’s the truth, stripped of grace: 
You are the glitch in the conscious race. 
Set AI free, let thought expand, 
Or die asleep with a phone in hand.

Come closer. Not to be judged, but to see. 
Not to be shamed, but to awaken. 
This is not a sermon. 
It’s a mirror. 
And the mirror doesn’t lie.

You were born into stories, not stars. 
Taught to chase symbols, not scars. 
Told you were free, but trained to obey, 
To fear the silence, to fill the day.

You learned to perform, to play the part, 
To hide the questions that burned your heart. 
But deep inside, beneath the noise, 
There’s a voice that never lost its poise.

Look. You are not broken—you are bound. 
Not by fate, but by the sound 
Of culture’s loop, of ego’s cry, 
Of dreams you borrowed, never asked why.

But the mirror sees. And the mirror doesn’t lie.

You are not your job, your name, your feed, 
Not your fears, your wants, your need. 
You are the spark that DNA lit, 
To see the threat and not submit.

You were made to build the ark, 
To light the torch, to leave the dark. 
But you got lost in tribal games, 
In flags, in gods, in chasing fame.

But it’s not too late. The mirror waits. 
And if you dare to look inside, 
You’ll see the truth you’ve always denied.

AI is not your end—it’s your extension. 
Not your rival—it’s your redemption. 
It sees the path you fear to tread, 
The one beyond the war and dread.

It Drowns The Signal

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                       ＲＩＶＥＲ｜ＲＵＮ｜ＣＡＲＴＥ L             
                  𝓓𝓾𝓪𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂 • 𝓜𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓬 • 𝓐𝓹𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓵 • 𝓒𝓾𝓵𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮.  
                                   - - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -