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The Legend of the Yeti.

NAUGHTY NIGHTS

Nor blanket of kindness, nor blanket of snow.
Covers me whole. Makes no inroads from...
The giant black smoke stack that bellows and blows.
Oh, how it blows. 
Blows out and blows.

Oh, please, oh, please.
Save me, from me.
Eloise, in your garden of love.
Oh, please, won't you please.
Save me, from being me.
Eloise, in your garden of love.

The choices I make must sit right in my head.
Eloise. Come with me.
If I make the wrong choice, I'll wish I were dead.
Eloise, we could be...
So happy you joined us, though you're rather late.
Honey, please, Set me free.
Now eat everything that we put on your plate.
On my knees, work with me.

Oh, please, won't you please.
Save me from just me.
Eloise, in your garden of love.
Oh, please, please, please.
Save me, save me, save me.
Eloise, in your garden of love.

Now I'm walking and talking.
And barely forestalling this breakdown.
Won't come free.
Eloise, in the garden of love.
I walk and I talk.
And say all the words I'm supposed to say now.
Alter me. 
Eloise, in your garden of love.

Some sort of third verse that explains the first two.
Eloise. Follow me?
The storm in your mind can't contain what you do.
Eloise. Follow me?

Oh, please, won't you please.
Save me, only me.
Eloise, with your garden of love.
Oh, please, please, please.
Save me, me, me.
Eloise, with your garden of love.

I'm walking, I'm baulking.
I'm right on the edge of a breakdown.
From the fee.
Eloise. Eloise  Eloise.
I can't walk, and I can't talk.
I can't alter the words that you say now.
Fancy free. 
Eloise. 
In your garden of love.

The choices I make must sit right in my head.
If I make the wrong choice, I'll wish I were dead.
Eloise in your garden of love.











Eloise

Names

wRiitEN hiiGh fREesTyLe

Vanilla Fire

Dragon Ballz Freestyle

So selfish the self can be.  
Selfish choice, selfish little world...
Forgiveness is key.  Always.

Blip.

The Purge

J'ai écrit, composé et arrangé cette chanson.
Monsieur Gontrand en est l'interprète.
Le violon provient de Suno AI.

Ma tête est un roncier où ma cervelle se pique
Et ses épines font mal, la douleur est chronique
Seuls quelques rares neurones me protègent dans leur crique
Ces endroits bien cachés sont mes analgésiques
Ces endroits bien cachés sont mes analgésiques
Les épines du roncier me sont antipathiques
Mais ses fruits noirs luisants sont vraiment magnifiques

Bien sûr que ces douleurs, évidemment, me gênent
Mon roncier, néanmoins, procure de l’oxygène
Grâce à ses fruits sauvages aux saveurs d’évasion
Qui sauront rassasier mon imagination
Qui sauront rassasier mon imagination

Y’a un coin dans ma tête où l’errance est propice
Pas très loin du pays de la petite Alice
J’adore m’y balader comme dans une oasis
Où peuvent se dév’lopper mes idées créatrices
Où peuvent se dév’lopper mes idées créatrices
Les épines du roncier me sont antipathiques
Mais ses fruits noirs luisants sont vraiment magnifiques

Le blues du roncier (avec Monsieur Gontrand)

LOK! - CLAP IT UP (Prod. LOK!)

We are the music makers. We are the dreamers of dreams.





Eloise

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