It's too late
You've crossed my fate
Now I can't wait
You can't escape my head

And now you're dead
You lied you bled,
It stained my dress

Clean up now
No fun now
Till I get hurt again
It's a matter of time till I sin

I'll make sure that it hurts
Dull knives force me to go slower
Tell me I look good in red
I'm the angel of death

I wanna see the snow again
I wanna do some blow again
You left me all alone again

Gone

Crucify

DRIVING 2.0 (feat. Charlie Burg)

Sethian Whispers

Trvll W Friends

3rd Wheel

this shits not me

recorded by j. larosa
original song by w. anderson

what's yr sign? (hotline tnt cover)

Stream "Still Free" https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/nonyx/still-free

Echoes of Freedom

Up 2 U
Written and Performed by Nitefire
https://levelmusic.lnk.to/Up2U

Nitefire - Up 2 U

a rough quick cover we made to a song by cavetown, "I Promise I'm Trying."

we hope you all enjoy

these songs are meant to be listened too//

i promise i'm trying by cavetown (cover)

@user-214378176

Ass on asphalt. Kick and I kip-up. 
Flick some schmutz off and we’re fair dinkum. 
That fellowship sailed when you followed that 
bread crumb trail to its cauldron. 
Instead, I shook a doddleoddle maudlin. 
That’s a white girl problem. 
He chase tail like a dog. No discipline. 
I’ll sit you down and spritz if you’re not listenin’. 
Happy place your heart out. 
The art carve out your innocence. 
Housewarming for your new prosthetic soul. 
Now let the devilry envelop you whole. 
That’s not real. This is. 
Too grown to piss contest realnesses. 
They’re poisoning the crops. 
Hip hop’s tertiary tops. 
Don’t tell me there’s no theme between these blots. 
I’m a hawk for that crock. Declaw me if I’m not. 
She sells me herself like a cheap whore. 
Luckily, my apathy’s like Eeyore’s. 
Brick wall swept the ATP tour. 
Aviation squeeze to the fore. 
Sneak preview o’ the sweets in store. 
Mullin’ over the myriad o’ paths I could pave. Perks of the range. 
Verses on stage ain’t the sole place to make purposeful change. 
Tentacular reach. Janitor keys to all hallways. 
The mic stays hot and the webcam is on always. 
Grad of the Borgnine school o’ longevity. 
Aim for accessible 
but inevitably steer ultra eventually. 
Can’t help but be. 
Pocket. Drummers acknowledge. 
Scent so pungent, thought he was removin’ nail polish. 
Fail-o-holic. 
Phase shift and to shift faith, it’s think fast. 
Shop till you drop an income class. Bango. 
King o’ this offbeat shit. Your flow is all me. 
Get skippy in your music and that’s a usage fee. 
Monkey do monkey see. 
Babydoll, if you get As this fall, might 
let you taste my... Rohypnol. 
Bridge burn extraordinaire. 
Scorched with his Jordan Airs. 
Brute force a moot point. 
The nouveau Robespierre. 
Ya lost me at profit-driven. 
Olive branch bearer, but if it’s competition, 
I will smoke fools. Only you can prevent it. 
Master’s back with amendments. 
Temptation’s outside the paleo regimen. 
Side effects include unlocking biopoetic abiogenesis. 
Woosh. All my scholars know the goal is woosh. 
If you know, you know. And if you don’t, shush. 
My pleasure. Me and these suits had our ties severed. 
Nowhere near newborn, more u to the third trimester. 
In a vat, just stewin’.
Bagged an ACA dancer chick Bruin. 
Saw me move and asked me how I do it. 
Wouldn’t be the first under my tutelage. 
Join the literal club. 
Sisterhood o’ the permanent shrug.
Nerdcore’s 42 Dugg.
I dove in Sorah Yang like a Soryu sub. Closed casket. 
Till I meet my Onassis, I’m livin’ easy feedin’ old habits. 
You’ve been squandering chances all week. 
It’s as bleak as watching a blonde think. 
And we’re walking. 

People tell me I’m underrated. I’m like rate me. 
Can’t wait ‘til you make it. Fuckin’ make me. 
Only share it if you wanna piss of your parents. 
Only spread it if you’re ready to end some friendships. 
I could’ve done 500 miles 500 times and blew up. 
Instead, I grew up. 
Lo-fi is a teenage game. 
I wrote that song when I was nineteen years old. 
People change. 

Radical honesty to a fault. 
Would you prefer a brain beating or bodily assault? 
That’s what I thought. 
Difference ‘tween edgy and actual edge. 
I touched him, I smelt blood. 
He touched me, he actually bled. 
Tsk tsk. That brisk frisk ain't risk assessment. 
Real introspection spits venom. 
It ain't hurtin, it ain't workin'. 
Let it. 
Penetrate flesh. Facilitate death. 
Only then, by definition, can you resurrect. 

I sing till it stings. 
New nerdcash. Amped as ever. 
I could skywrite that shit in Agent Orange letters
and y'all still wouldn't remember.

Sethian Whispers

Star of Xenojin