AIBRY – Cassette Tapes

This project is more than an album — it’s an artifact. A two-sided experience that plays like a lost tape rescued from the static. Side A hits fast and raw, with fractured memories and jagged rhythms. Side B slows down into the deep burn, echoing in distortion and decay.

Every track is a chapter — reels spinning, signals breaking through the noise. This is trauma, survival, and rebirth, pressed onto magnetic tape and left for anyone brave enough to press play.

📀 Track Order

Side A

Press Play 
Legacy/Cracks
Walkman Wounds
Signal in the Static
Loop Failure
Rewind Interlude

Side B
7. Ashes to Armor
8. Static Saints
9. Channel Burn
10. Sidewalk Gospel
11. Dead Air Interlude
12. I Stayed 
13. Outro

⚡ Explore the full interactive deck and message board: https://thelastcassette.neocities.org/

Walkman Wounds

The Succubus

Ghost City

Some love burns clean. Some love leaves scars.
This one’s for the twisted kind.
Tap ❤️ if you felt it.

Beautiful and twisted

Y’all Ain’t Think I’d Make It by Matthew Lukac (aka FatMatt / GhostFish) is a horrorcore banger born from shadows and steel. Dark, cinematic production collides with razor-sharp lyricism, flipping doubt and disbelief into a stadium-sized anthem. Set against the industrial ruins of Kingsbury, the track blends occult imagery, trap fire, and Southern gothic storytelling. This isn’t just music — it’s a declaration carved in concrete: proof that every voice of doubt became fuel for the fire. With GhostFish house style visuals and horrorcore precision, Y’all Ain’t Think I’d Make It is the sound of triumph rising from the grave.

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Hashtags:
#YallAintThinkIdMakeIt #MatthewLukac #FatMatt #GhostFish #Horrorcore #SouthernGothic #LanternFlow

yall_aint_think_id_make_it

[Verse 1]
Echoes in the skull, bones rattle like loose change in a pocket full of regrets,
Sweat on the sheets, solo symphony of screams I never let escape the net.
Fingers claw at ghosts, grip slips on the ladder I built from broken bets,
Every step a stutter, tumbling back to the pit where the heart forgets.
Whispers from the walls, "You fumbled again, king of the almost-there throne,"
Mirror cracks a grin, shows the clown crown I wear when I'm alone.
Pills scatter like confetti from a party that ended before it begun,
Chasin' tail lights of dreams that swerve and leave me spun.
Fury bubbles low, a storm in the gut twistin' slow,
Punch the pillow pretendin' it's the face of the me I let go.
Nights bleed into days, a cycle of "why" and "what if" chains,
Solo in the storm, drownin' in the rain of my own dumb pains.

[Chorus]
Alone in the wreckage, fists to the sky but the clouds just laugh,
Fuckin' up the script, every line a glitch, aftermath crash.
Shadows tag along, pullin' strings on this puppet show farce,
Never nail the landing, always the spark that fizzles harsh.

[Verse 2]
Kitchen floor confessions to the fridge hummin' lullabies of loss,
Bottle caps collection, trophies for the nights I crossed my own boss.
Friends fade like smoke signals I misread in the fog of my flaws,
Dial tones mock the calls I chicken out on, clawin' at closed doors.
Double dip in despair, heir to the error, terror in the mirror stare,
Pair of eyes hollow, swallow the sorrow till it chokes the air.
Schemes unravel quick, brick by brick I stack the blame game wall,
Fall through the cracks, tracks of tears map the crawl back to crawl.
Rage ripples out, shout at the void but it spits back silence thick,
Pick at the scabs of "shoulda," blood drips rhythmic, sick tick-tock trick.
Wander the warehouse mind, aisles of "if only" stocked high,
Supply run for sanity always comes up dry.

[Bridge]

[Verse 3]
Ceiling stares back judgmental, paint peels like promises I shred,
Bed a battlefield, bullets of doubt lodged deep in the head.
Solo jam session, guitar strings snap under frantic fret press,
Mess of melodies mournin' the moves I second-guess.
Entendres double-edged, hedge bets on the edge where I ledge-dive,
Alive but barely, parley with the dark that makes me thrive? Nah, jive.
Turkey in the straw, draw the short one every raffle round,
Ground swallows the sound of my stumbles, profound pound.
Ire ignites sporadic, erratic static in the brain pan fry,
Try to tie the noose on the blues but the knot always slips by.
Drift through the driftwood days, waves of "wrong" crash relentless,
Defenseless in the deluge, foolish fuel for the endless.

[Chorus]

[Verse 4]
Drawer full of drafts, half-baked plans that bake in the regret oven,
Shovin' down the doubt but it bubbles up, sudden gut punch lovin'.
Echo chamber solo, polo shirt stained with the sweat of "almost won,"
Done before the dawn, withdrawn from the race I never run.
Fumble fingers on the keys, pleas to the ether go unanswered flat,
Scatterbrained cat chasin' its tail in the trap I set, splat.
Wrath whispers sweet, "Smash it all," but the hammer hand shakes weak,
Leak of fury feeble, retrieval of the pieces? Nah, too bleak.
Rhyme ricochet wild, child of the chill that kills the thrill slow,
Flow folds under the weight of the wait, plate full of "no."
Linger in the limbo lounge, lounge lizard lappin' up the lone,
Bone-tired, wired wrong from the jump, home in the groan.

[Outro Verse]
Final flick of the lighter, ignite the night with a sigh that sighs deep,
Creep through the creep of the keep I can't escape, sleep a thief.
Beef with the reflection, deflection of the truth hits like a brick,
Sick of the script flip, trip on the rip in the seam, quick.
Alone? Yeah, etched in the etch of the etch-a-sketch shake,
Mistake parade marches on, dawn breaks on the fake awake.
Fury fades to flicker, thicker than the mist but mistier still,
Chill pill swallowed whole, hole in the soul that time can't fill.

Alone In The Wreckage

DA VINCI_ THE CODE OF CREATION

UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE (original)

Capitalism’s next tier ain’t greed, 
It’s orbital zones where minds can lead. 
It’s not escape—it’s species climb, 
Where purpose meets intelligent design.

Power elites get their honor back, 
No more lies, no more attack. 
They teach, they guide, they build the base, 
For orbital jobs and human grace.

No more flipping burgers, no more grind, 
We need engineers with cosmic mind. 
Scientists rise, the youth get trained, 
And orbital zones become unchained.

AI won’t steal—it’ll assist, 
In building futures that persist. 
The job force grows, the climb begins, 
And dignity returns to skins.

Politics evolves, war gets banned, 
No more bombs across the land. 
We invest in moral growth, 
Till pain and fear are just an oath.

The memory fades, the scars dissolve, 
And human hearts begin to evolve. 
No more rampage, no more screams, 
Just cultured minds and cosmic dreams.

We must be taught to live with joy, 
Not just survive, not just deploy. 
No more pressure, no more breaks, 
No more systems built on fakes.

To trust a soul in orbit’s zone, 
They must be whole, not overthrown. 
Not rats in race, but minds that choose, 
To build a world we won’t abuse.

Education flows like stream, 
Not tests that crush the child’s dream. 
AI guides, adapts, refines, 
To find the genius in the lines.

Each kid walks their chosen path, 
No forced exams, no wrathful math. 
Just depth and joy and tailored climb, 
A lifelong arc through space and time.

Orbital zones, the new gold tier, 
Make peace more profitable than fear. 
No bombs, no raids, no broken lands— 
Just habitats built by human hands.

Real estate beyond the sky, 
Turns war to loss, and peace to high. 
The rich will pivot, not from guilt, 
But from the math of what gets built.
[Verse 7 – Supra-Political Prestige]
As habitats bloom and minds align, 
New orgs rise with cosmic spine. 
Supra-political, tuned to guide, 
Not just to rule, but to provide.

Their prestige comes not from might, 
But from expanding human light. 
Population grows with grace, 
In orbital zones, we find our place.
[Verse 8 – The Civilization of Species]
This is the moment long foreseen, 
Where mankind sheds the war machine. 
No more tribal, no more torn, 
A species whole, reborn, adorned.

Civilization not by land, 
But by the reach of every hand. 
Peace ain’t just a dream or plea— 
It’s now the path to planetary glee.

Peace is no longer a hope. 
It’s the most valuable investment. 
And the climb is no longer a theory. 
We can end the nightmare. 
Become a real civilization. 
The real battle was always to survive.

Within Reach

Shadows of Me

Country Rap, bluesy electric guitar riffs, booming 808 bass, mid-tempo trap-country beat, heavy-hearted yet resilient, lo-fi Southern texture, gritty male vocals, rap verses with soulful choruses, analog warmth

Pearl River Runs Deep

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

The Succubus

PlsDntChase

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