this would be insane for the backing on a rap

Loves Me Crazy

Sweeping All The Clutter Out (G. Di Nunno)

The dirt pile grows higher, so why must you add more?
Your face wears signs telling; the fight's hard through losing

The drama not worth it, repeating the pattern
Of toil and bruises, quite totaled with damage. 

All friends kept stunned guessing, what plans stay stored, hidden
A spring trap bite triggered--enjoy all this chaos.

Love the attention
Feel the power
Sneaking up
Quick attack
Can't resist
Stunned and lost
As you grin and walk on by.

Here is the broom to sweep all the clutter out
One chance to clean the rotten reputation that you have.

(A trip to 3/4)
And all trust has withered
Your family hides out
So where are you heading?
No one wants you around.

(Back to 4/4)
To wash off all trouble will take more than one storm
The meantime, such backlash when someone says your name.

The difficult task of repairing, undoing
Has worth in performance, and actions rebuilding.

What was sent out
Was returned
Wounds that stung
Healing slow
Grudges held
Stay awhile
Consequences thick, you know?

Here is the broom to sweep all the clutter out
One chance to clean the rotten reputation that you have.

All lyrics, music, and performance by Gino Di Nunno
Copyright 2025.

#6, Sweeping All The Clutter Out

Interstellar Pulsewave (Remastered)

491643_3517102006557819648_9426298733

Pour qui je compte     ( Translated following the French text )

Vidéo :   https://youtu.be/9njE-7si0d0
Texte :           Muette
Chant lead : Philippe J
Choeurs :      Liora 

Il y a des carnets
Et des mots égarés
Tout au fond des tiroirs
Et qu'on n'relit jamais
Parce qu'on est en retard
Et qu'y a toujours quelqu'un
Dont il faut prendre soin
Et ce quelqu'un, c'est jamais soi.

Dans la frileuse Flandre,
Sous les chênes et les hêtres,
Il y a ce tas de cendre
Après un feu de fête.
Au milieu, des canettes,
Des souv'nirs jetés là
Qu'on ramass' les yeux las
Pour les trier plus tard, peut-être.

Alors on compte sur ses doigts.
Un' seul' main suffit quand on s'dit :
Pour qui je compte vraiment ?

Les glacières dans le coffre,
La guitare dans sa housse,
On se serre un peu fort.
Un dernier regard pour
Les lits de mousse tassée,
Et les arbres muets
Mêm' quand l' bûch'ron les couche.
Et chacun r'part de son côté.

Alors on compte sur ses doigts.
Un' seul' main suffit quand on s'dit:
Pour qui je compte vraiment ?

Et puis quand la clairière,
S'éclaircit plus encore,
Qu'on sait par cœur le bois,
Ses pièges, ses réconforts,
Assis sur les souches
On se parle à soi-même
En dénombrant ses doigts.
On se demande : Qui m'aime ? Qui m'aime ?
Et une seule main suffit. 

For whom I count on

There are notebooks
And lost words
At the bottom of drawers
That we never reread
Because we're late
And there's always someone
We have to take care of
And that someone is never ourselves.

In chilly Flanders,
Under the oak and beech trees,
There is a pile of ashes
After a festive bonfire.
In the middle, cans,
Memories thrown away
That we pick up with weary eyes
To sort through later, perhaps.

So we count on our fingers.
One hand is enough when we ask ourselves:
Who do I really count on?

The coolers in the trunk,
The guitar in its case,
We hug a little tighter.
One last look at
The beds of packed moss,
And the silent trees
Even when the lumberjack cuts them down.
And everyone goes their separate ways.

So we count on our fingers.
One hand is enough when we say to ourselves:
Who do I really count on?

And then when the clearing
Grows even brighter,
When we know the woods by heart,
Its traps, its comforts,
Sitting on the stumps
We talk to ourselves
Counting our fingers.
We ask ourselves: Who loves me? Who loves me?
And one hand is enough.

Pour qui je compte. avec Philippe J

Vertigo

The Final Moment

With the insanity of the elite deciding it would be a good way to spend their money and since they've tried absolutely everything else that money could buy so let's block out the sun! That should cause some positive reactions! So why do the rich Elites get to do what they want to with our Earth and our sun without even Consulting us, the citizens, the people? Does money make you God?  Having some worthless paper gives you enough power over everyone else on this planet to do what you want no matter how fucking crazy it is? Sure let's start another Ice Age, let's kill off all the humans on the planet! Ohh, except for us, the elite! Of course we have 100 year bunkers so we will survive!  Just remember everyone, having money don't make you immortal and being rich don't make you bulletproof! Quantity over quality is the key here! When will we say enough is enough!?

Vertigo

Ry2hot🕸️

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