LOST

Kemet The Phantom VS Dua Lipa (Dramantic Remix)

Flipside-Stone Pony

DANZAS OLVIDADAS

Sin rastro en el camino
Que voy dejando atrás
Innumerables pasos quedan por andar

Un hito en mi memoria
Un fracaso inmortal
Un pasaje en la historia sin narrar

No sé si lo he perdido
Dudo haberlo tenido

Desde el vacío
Hasta el vacío
En busca de un final

Un medio que mate a su fin
Un arma que me quiera disparar

Vuelve a llover
Y el agua fría arrastra mi pesar

Cada día es noche en mi canción
La que, siempre solo, escucho yo

Bailando escondido en un rincón
Cada nota es un golpe letal al dolor

En un recuerdo, heladas,
Viven danzas olvidadas

Volver, condenado a empezar
Sobre un nuevo papel podré volar

DANZAS OLVIDADAS

Damn You (My Sleepless Journey)

I wish you all a good weekend🙏 Good ListeninG 🙏 
Peace ✌️😊 

#electronic #psytribe #tribal #trance #psytrance #bandlab #techno #beats #frenchtouch #matesplash

/.SūbCōnSCiōūS.\

Outro - Piece Of Earth, Peace Of Being

Intro - Echoes In The Abyss

Triple C.Killer or Duke (AntiCommunist Cowboy Clown Killer) lies on the cold, unforgiving table, the harsh fluorescent lights above him feel too bright, piercing through the darkness of his past that he can’t escape. The straps dig into his wrists and ankles, a reminder of the control he once had over others, a power that now slips away like sand through his fingers. It is May 9, 1994, and he knows that time has ticked down to its final moments; the impending lethality of the injection looms larger than his regrets. Near him stands Father Tommy, but in the Duke's disturbed mind, he is more than a preacher. This is Tommy Zygote, the enigmatic founder of Thrashing Zombies. The Duke chuckles quietly, the irony of seeking solace from someone who might turn his story into a twisted anthem not lost on him. As the IV needle pierces his skin, the Duke feels an unsettling pang of vulnerability wash over him. Memories flood in: the faces of the boys, the laughter that filled his home, now mere echoes of a haunted past. Once a celebrated community figure, he now lies bare on this table with nothing but shame to adorn him. “Father,” he begins, words slurring with a mix of fear and catharsis. “I didn’t know I was lost until they started to disappear.” Each word scrapes against his soul. He recalls the terrible grip he had on life, snuffing out the lights of so many young men, intertwined with memories of a stunted childhood where the shadows of his father loomed large, twisted lessons learned through fear. Father Tommy listens, eyes piercing yet strangely understanding. The Duke’s mind drifts, racing through 1970s Chicago, the bustling streets, the secrets whispered behind closed doors, the nights when he donned clown makeup to entertain children. In stark contrast, he realizes his mind housed a jester’s facade that concealed a monster. Heat from the lethal cocktail intensifies as he begins to shake, heart pounding faster. “I wanted to be loved, Tommy,” he confesses, tears breaking through his bravado. “But all I found was this emptiness… this insatiable hunger that gnawed at me.” Each moment ticks by, the weight of time pressing upon him. The Duke remembers the thrill of a hunt, chilling highs that flickered like distant stars, only to fade into the bleak darkness he now inhabits. The taste of blood and betrayal intertwines in his mind, recollections morphing into nightmares swirling around him. “I don’t want to die, not like this,” he murmurs, voice shaky and uncertain. “I wish I could take it all back. I wanted to be someone… anyone.” The IV fluid drips steadily, pulse thrumming louder against the silence surrounding him. “Your sins can’t be unmade, but you can find peace if you truly seek it,” Father Tommy responds, his voice laced with an odd blend of compassion and authority, something the Duke didn’t expect from the man he imagined was merely a conduit to the afterlife. Conflicted emotions swirl; how could peace exist when he has sown chaos? The seconds stretch as if mocking him, every tick resonating within the confines of his torment. As the final wave of the drug courses through him, the Duke’s resolve softens; he feels a strange acceptance settle in, the fabric of his existence unthreading, revealing the faces of his victims one last time. “I’m sorry,” he gasps, not just to Father Tommy, but to the universe, to the innocent lives extinguished by his hands. The world fades, colors dulling like a scene from one of those horror films he admired. “Forgive me,” he whispers, surrendering to the oblivion that beckons him, drowning out the remnants of his broken psyche as death embraces him like a lover he never knew. In those final moments, the tortured mind of the Duke falls silent, enveloped in darkness, leaving behind only echoes of questions reverberating through the void. Tommy leaned down and sung, "You anticommunist motherfucker, Elizabeth Proctor was innocent".

What`s for breakfast

Tripple C Killer

Triple C.Killer.

An English/French love song written ,in my rented flat on the phone ,in 2003...
Acoustic guitar, and vocals. 


remix. Computer and flowers.

Track shows a very delicate theme and a quite hard-riffed part, both alternating and finally flowing up to an endless symphonic dream (words are half a poem I wrote previously (not these, but lyrics below)).

Letra  /  Translated lyrics:

No despiertes (Sólo un sueño)  /  Don’t you wake up (Only a dream)

No... despierta... no... no despiertes  /  No ... wake up ... no ... don’t you wake up
no, cuidado... no despiertes, na na na na na...  /  no, take care ... don’t you wake up, na na na na na…
... despierta al fin y date cuenta  /  ... wake up at last and realize
de que todo ha sido un sueño, na na na na na...  /  everything has been a dream, na na na na na...

Una vez más, nervios y resentimiento,  /  Once again, nerves and resentment,
todo en mi vida es sueño, sólo ha sido eso.  /  everything in my life is a dream, it has only been so.

Y de nuevo, con el tiempo,  /  And again, with time,
incubando un nuevo sueño,  /  incubating a new dream,
me voy hundiendo en mis propios brazos,  /  I am sinking in my own arms,
me acuno, me canto y me voy acostumbrando...  /  cradle myself, sing to myself and get used...

Otro escenario, otros personajes,  /  Another stage, other characters,
la misma historia, na na na na na...  /  the same story, na na na na na...
que durará un día, un milenio,  /  which will last one day, a millenium,
toda mi vida, na na na na na...  /  all my life, na na na na na...

Pero sin duda vendrán a despertarme  /  But undoubtedly the laughs of people
las risas de la gente, alguna tarde.  /  will come to wake me up, any evening.

Y entonces, con miedo...  /  And then, fearfully...

No... despierta… no… no despiertes (…)  /  No ... wake up ... no ... don’t you wake up (…)

No despiertes (Sólo un sueño)

Thanks for 700 followers!! Just 300 more to 1,000!
100% original material outside of a few covers

Damn You (My Sleepless Journey)

BadMan_poet

Recent comments

ATXSmokinAce

Related tracks