I am a phantom
I am a specter
I'm the light you think you see
When you feel there's someone standing right next to you

We are the ghosts
We don't care
You're next
We are the ghosts
We don't care
Your lover is next

I am the lost one
I am the least one
I'm the darkness that you see
When you feel there's something right in front of you

We are the ghosts
We don't care
You're next
We are the ghosts
We don't care
Your family is next

We are the ghosts
We don't care
You're next
We are the ghosts
We don't care
Your iPhone is next
And you too

We are the ghosts
We don't care
You're next
We are the ghosts
We don't care
Your dog is next

We are the ghosts (Post Grunge Rock reload)

In corridors of graphite light I trace a stuttered frame
Shadows flicker gently like a code beneath the flame
Questions drift in mosaics on an empty moving plane
I walk between the chords of clarity and doubt again
The skyline mirrors patterns in a mind with shifting grids
Each tile a restless cadence where the meaning softly bids
A tremor hides below the hush where silent thoughts collide
Searching for the blueprint drawn in someone else’s mind

Here the tempo bends and rhythm leans to doubt
Edges sharpen slowly while the frame turns inside out
Undercurrents tighten waiting for release
Tension holds its center poised between unease

Mirror of the modern pulse revealing hidden beats
Through woven lines of thought that echo in the streets
Hovering between the knowing and the blind reprise
Suspended in the form where contradiction lies
Through labyrinths of shifting moods we trace the frame
Sophisticated tension whispering a name

City lights scatter like notes on a score I barely read
Rhythm pulses steady underneath the steel and speed
Impressions move like fragments of a half-remembered creed
I search the harmonic undercurrent for something true to lead
Between the lines the bass walks soft in a shaded groove
The drums speak broken meters in a restless, forward move
And in the space between I chase the shape the fractures leave

In the mirror’s crack I see the center of my doubt
A suspended key unresolved and reaching out
Blueprint shifting slowly as the old lines fall away
I lean into dissonance to light another way
Waiting for the moment forms return and re-array

Mirror of our modern pulse revealing what we hide
In tangled webs of shifting moods we learn to ride
Balancing the known against what we cannot grasp
Architecture of thought in a tightening clasp
Through crooked halls of meaning shaped by unseen hands
Sophisticated tension guides our future strands

Blueprint left unfinished and the puzzle still at play
We stand amid the fragments ready for a new day

Mirror of our modern pulse

The entire sound is in my hands. I write cyber poetry, produce, and compose every track ready for Immersive 3D. Every beat is crafted for spatial and next-gen headphones.
Intimate lyrics, total immersion, every track.

For 30 years I kept unfinished demos to myself, never letting them out. Now I finish what I start and release it the moment it’s alive.

I use every tool available, human or machine, as an instrument.
Technology doesn’t replace creativity. It expands it.

New tracks tagged #Reversed Cymbals