I tested air 
It spoke, it spoke back
I wandered off 
Thinking naw man naw

So I found myself
Between two maples and
I gave myself to wicked pleasures

Wasted Oats

the mirror goes
with all its woes
from wrinkled eyes
to pruning toes 

Small Rinsing

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.

St-Pierre St.

If only 
To cutaway 
The pain
Cutaway
The sorrow

Cutaway

I'm sick of life
I'm sick of toil
Doors close
And kettles boil

Horadam Pthalo & Umber

A sense uncertain can feel like-
In daylight the world confuses
You watch your back in the pillow
You can't relax, oh no
They'll stick it to you

A Sense Uncertain

My name is Sickson. I am pursuing my studies at Concordia University, Montreal, QC. All songs are original and are a part of an ongoing project started on January 1st 2013. I am presently experimenting with both dark and ambient soundscapes. 
