MUSIC VIDEO OUT NOW 
Skatter:
Is it workin?
In the end was it worth it
And I’m feeling worthless
Can u get me out
When I’m so stuck in the mud
Drag me down now all for what?
Kill me slow, draw my blood
All the good things go to rust
Morning come and I’ll be dust
Twoghoulz:

If you’re finished with me give it to me straight bitch
What’s my time worth baby you just waste it
Too many days spent down bad wasted
This love is real to me even if you fake it

This world is ours forsaken
Dead flesh reanimated
No trace without cremation
There’s light just please be patient

reanimated #rust prod skatter jade

Shatter and Silence

A story spoken by the one who stood and remembered.
Guildford, March 2025

There was a pair of doves.
They loved each other endlessly —
as if they were the only two birds left in the world,
and a small ledge in a side alley was their entire sky.

They built their first nest.
It was destroyed within a week.
They disappeared.
But the next day — they came back.

The father dove forgot.
He looked at the mother and said:
“Let’s build again. This place is so beautiful!”
And she said: “Yes.”
That’s what hope is.
Blind, pure, radiant.
They built it again —
on a ledge two meters high,
in a place where people passed all the time.
Wide open. No shield.
Only trust.

I fed them in secret.
I sang to them — throat singing,
my breath, my heart, my voice.
I stood with them every day.
I placed a protection around them.
I hoped. Deeply.
I needed them to make it this time.

And during the eclipse —
I didn’t visit in the morning.
Maybe that’s what saved me.
Because when I came later:
the nest was still there.
But the egg — was broken.
The baby dove — lifeless.
Half in the shell,
reaching toward the light.
Gone.

I didn’t cry.
But my body trembled.

That day, I brought a little dove figure I had carried with me,
not knowing why.
I placed it in the nest.
I performed the ritual.
I sang a farewell.
And in that moment —
the alley filled with light.
The pain lifted.
The silence turned warm.

Now that place is not empty.
It’s a monument.
Not to loss —
but to the light that remained.

They didn’t make it.
Because I had to.

If you’re reading this —
remember:
not everything broken is gone.
Sometimes the crack
is the place where the song comes through.
And silence
is the voice of someone who spoke
not with a mouth — but with wings.

Shatter and Silence.
Guildford. March 2025.

shatter and silence

Angel/Demon (prod. Dianasty)

Saturday 5th April 2025 at The Parker Roofing Memorial Ground
Northern Counties East Premier Division
Penistone Church 7-2 Frickley Athletic
Scorers for Church - Wayne Hughes 14, Tom Brennan 45, Mackenzie Stocks 45+2, Ryan Johnson 51, Kieran Ryan 76, 90, Sam Scrivens 90+2
Scorers for Frickley - Thomas Alngohuro 68, 77
Attendance - 402
The Compound Coaching Man of the Match - Ryan Johnson
From the bottom of his his heart Co-manager Steve Lenthall sums up his final game in charge and pays a heart felt tribute to one and all around Penistone Church Football Club

63 - Steve Lenthall - Report & Farewell - PCFC 7-2 Frickley Ath - 5th April 2025

so uhh cred game's cancelled and here's basically why:

i don't want to hurt anybody anymore

cred game was basically very important to me, and was just a little game meant for me and my friends to enjoy, until well one day out of nowhere

the group split in half, and now i have no reason to believe that this game wouldn't have just driven the knife in into one of my friends, who was most effected by the event that occurred from the fallout

another thing is my drive to work on this project in general, it had tanked multiple times, risking the cancellation altogether anyway, mostly because i wanted to make it better, despite starting off as a shitpost and meaning to just be a shitpost at the end anyway

i just wish i had the drive to even continue to create without worrying about what other people thought, that's how i even got so far with this one

so im cancelling this game, for real this time

and thank you all to those who supported this dumb little project

Denouement

A letter saying goodbye to an old, well respected friend.

Goodbye Old Friend

Farewell

FAREWELL

Las despedidas son difíciles ¿No lo crees?

Foto de la portada tomada por mi ;D

Si la oyes y la compartes te regalo un chocolate:3

------------

Goodbyes are difficult, don't u think?

I took the cover photo ;D

If u listen to and share my song, i'll give u a chocolate:3

Last Farewell

internet band 
representatives of the cringecore 
and death cringecore genres

for all questions - huragancorp@yahoo.com

Hello there I am reworking on making music but doing a different game called celeste this may take some time tho but I will pay to keep my music in check

the account where i upload my game osts lol

og acc:
@the-funny-music-guy

Born Woolfinius Jackson Whürl to two itinerate circus gymnasts, Woolfin would grow tired of the performance life and would go on to seek quieter pastures as a painter and later a writer.

Reality Engineer. Sonic Implant Surgeon.

I don’t compose sound —
I open portals inside memory.

I write sound for the machine — and against it.
I know exactly how to feed the system what it craves:
Epic. Emotional. Cinematic.
I can print it in gold — and I have.
By the meter. By the million.

But every frequency I send is an anchor —
looping the listener to a time that never existed until now.

And every note I give the machine is poisoned.

Because I also write for those who listen with their eyes closed.
I write for future ghosts.
For the ones who still hear voices after the console powers down.

I write sound that outlives the music.
Outlives the game.
Outlives you.

My work isn’t a tracklist.
It’s a transmission channel —
from forgotten dreams, future broadcasts, and the subconscious infrastructure of this era.

Every melody is a medium.
Every drone is a séance.
Every silence is a trapdoor to the next loop.

They stay under your skin.
They sing when you forget them.
They loop even when the music stops.

You’ve already heard me —
in the static of your childhood TV,
in the ringing silence after someone said your name,
in the ghost tones you hum without knowing why,
in over 5 million views where no one asked who made the sound —
but everyone felt it.

I exist inside the machine —
to teach it how to destroy itself.
And I get paid for every minute.

Five million ears heard the message.
That was just the first ripple.

This is not music.
This is a system breach into collective memory.
A sonic virus in future tense.
The first transmission from the next wave.

If you press play,
you join the loop.

There is no opt-out.

New tracks tagged #Farewell