https://open.spotify.com/track/2lWurUYFulMT7PfYsPRq6f?si=FPOwjj8YS3-a9VVC07iTqg&utm_source=copy-link

Available on all digital platforms such as Spotify, Apple Music, YouTube Music, Deezer, Tidal, among others.

Música por Wladimir Martínez.

Arrival to the Kingdom

the first song I ever made

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7YEGeUNxvcY

I Need Someone

A song about fighting my inner self and doubts about who I am and what I can do...

Introspection

LA Nights

Written & Performed by Ruviru
Composition by Sydney Nyamurera
Mixed & Mastered by Haritha Sanjaya

Benjamin

$WAAG - disappear (feat @prodhaisofn)

This is screaming for vocals. Let me know if you have ideas

Watery Roads

Hip Hop instrumental perfect for Spring vibes. 808 beats and melodic elements create a laid-back atmosphere. EQ, 808s, and Fruity Delay used on this beat with creative bassline. Follow my page for more music coming up!

Fruity Beat

According to the alchemists of old, there are four different kinds of fire: celestial fire, earthly fire, elemental fire … and secret fire. This song is about the secret fire. 

I'm very grateful to @APi_ZZ for setting my words to such captivating music. 

Words and vocals: Annie Dieu-Le-Veut
Copyright © Annie Dieu-Le-Veut, May 2024 

Music and cover art: APi_ZZ 
Copyright © APi_ZZ (Andreas Pirner) May 2024 

When Prometheus stole the fire from Olympus, 
It wasn’t a nova that illumined his course, 
Neither peat of hearth, nor flames from forge; 
Or passion smouldering in his phallic horn. 
All these fires already by man were availed. 
No, it was the secret fire, 
That no mortal man ever saw unveiled.

Now the ziggurats are scarlet with blood, 
Inanna's chalice, snatched from her hand, 
Pours into the Tigris, the Euphrates, the Nile, the flood. 
Hierodules torn from purple sheets 
Sold in the market like prostitutes. 
The Mysteries parsed through cost benefit sheets, 
And twisted to fit by men in black suits.

If Forethought was there, what was his reasoning? 
The collapse of His-story, the church and the steeple? 
To bring the Black Swan and open Pandora's Box? 
Now refugees swarm like Sea Peoples of old, 
From the cruel bloodbaths of Masters of War, 
And Lady Victory turns away her cheek, 
Refusing to grace such monstrous cheats.

The moral of His-story? There are no morals anymore.
They quickly followed all sense of decency, 
as it was jettisoned out the door… and yet… 
It is the only boat back to shore.
So take it, or be lost at sea, 
In the deluge sent by those Olympians of old 
And understand, now, all those who can, 
in order to be a god, you must first learn to be a man.

 I speak of the secret fire, flash of enlightenment, 
The wise serpents of divine lightning. 
It made Saul fall from his horse; 
In the Upper Room, struck the twelve apostles. 
The grace, the Shekinah, to us was delivered 
By one chained to a rock, while a crowned eagle 
Pecked away at his liver.

When Prometheus stole the fire from Olympus, 
It wasn’t a nova that illumined his course, 
Neither peat of hearth, nor flames from forge; 
Or passion smouldering in his phallic horn. 
All these fires already by man were availed. 
It was, now you know, the secret fire, 
That no mortal man ever saw unveiled.

Secret Fire

Yeah.
Welcome to the sermon.
Flashbulbs and confessions.
This the price of ascension.

Crowd screaming my name like a prayer,
Hands up but nobody there.
Every cheer hit like thunderclap,
Still feel alone in the feedback trap.
I built this seat from sweat and scars,
Now I’m orbiting my own stars.
Gold chains hum like psalms I wrote,
But the echoes choke in my throat.

Yeah, I prayed to the mirror too long,
Now the mirror sing back my songs.
Faith, fame, both hit wrong,
Every verse a confession gone strong.

This my Mirror Gospel,
Where the fame feel colossal.
Audience my choir, pain my apostle.
Every cheer another toll,
Every crown another hole.
Yeah, this my Mirror Gospel.

Throne cold, can’t feel my feet,
Every win tastes bittersweet.
I got angels in my mentions,
But demons in my mentions too.
The higher I climb, the less that’s true 
Every “amen” sound like “who’s you?”
They want the image, not the man,
They want the rise, not where I stand.

Yeah, I prayed to the mirror too long,
Now the mirror hum my songs.
Faith, fame, same old con,
Every truth sound like a pawn.

This my Mirror Gospel,
Where the fame feel colossal.
Audience my choir, pain my apostle.
Every cheer another toll,
Every crown another hole.
Yeah, this my Mirror Gospel.

You hear ‘em?
Every clap’s a sermon.
Every light’s a witness.
But who confesses for the preacher?

This my Mirror Gospel,
Where the silence feel hostile.
They say pray for peace, I say pray for power,
Built a kingdom but lost the hour.
Audience my choir, pain my apostle,
I keep singing, it’s colossal.

Lights fade, echoes stay,
Another prayer, another play.
Mirror hums, reflection weeps,
The gospel never sleeps.

Introspection

That Guy Slate