I WAS LITERALLY WONDERING WHEN THIS FULL SONG WAS GONNA COME OUT EARLIER TODAY OMGGGGG YESSSSS

yi wu 2505

basement song (soft)

Vocals, Guitar, & Bass: Christian Pace
Drums: Ben Curell
Drum Engineer: Miles Chandler
Mixing & Mastering: Christian Pace
Recorded at Sound Museum and Crook Street Power House

Tea For Two

Sweet Child

Accidental Tourist

the album is a concept album. It follows the story of our protagonist who finds himself in a constant state of pain. He comes up with the terrible solution of ending his life, however, before he does so he decides to pray. After feeling excitement our main character assumes God will answer his plea and send an angel to take care of him and remove all his woes. When this does not happen, our lead becomes more destitute then ever and lights himself on fire. As he is dying he enters a spirit realm where he meets an angel. In this moment our protagonist clings on for dear life and fortunately makes it. He awakes to a friend crying in this hospital. Turns out our 'hero' wasn't as lonely as he thought. In the distant future, our main character is doing better, still riddled with issues, but resolute in his promise of life.

i'll never die

pain (intermission)

Narcissistic romance

pls follow Blehh
https://soundcloud.com/blehh2
lyrics:
There's trash all on the floor 
I'm rotting in my room 
You said you wanted more 
There's nothing i can do 
My wrist covered in blood 
My legs are black and blue
I'm losing myself 
I do this all for you

Blehh- I could really use a friend rn

4//']33

my memory

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Moving On / Someone You Adore

Moving On

Echoes (In my mind)

The day opens like a checkpoint: a gate that counts, not forbids.
We fumble our courage, hear it tick across the floor, and call that clatter progress.
Mistakes flicker—little glitches—but they illuminate the path more honestly than triumph.

A voice inside writes to us in the margin: try again.
Not a command—an invitation.
We learn the craft of continuing: farming quiet hope, carrying calm like a lantern.
To be “low HP” is only to feel the heart nearer; to be mapless is only to trust the breath.

And when the frame goes grey, we are not erased.
We return—smaller, truer—respawned at the edge of ourselves.
What owns us is what we refuse to name defeat.
Another coin. Another scene.
We stand, almost laughing, and press start again.

my memory

Starberry

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