You keep calling me “vintage”,
Like that’s some kind of charm.
I’m not your museum.
But you still show up.

You chase heat, I move slow,
You light up fast, I learned “no.”
I’ve seen boys like you turn fame to flame,
Talk big love, forget the name.
You like my calm, my lines, my shade,
But you don’t see what time has made.
I got scars you’d scroll right past,
You want new—new never lasts.
You call it “chemistry,” I call it “try.”
You blink once, I watch you fly.
I don’t hate youth, I hate the spin,
Where every crush becomes a win.

You’re too young for my ghost,
Too bright, too close.
You want my truth, but truth got cost,
You play with love, I count what’s lost.
Too young, too sure, too loud, too sweet,
You chase fire, I just feel heat.

You talk future, I talk debt,
Different wars, same sweat.
You text hearts like it’s free,
I built walls to keep me me.
You see grace, I see grind,
You love the legend, not the mind.
Your world moves quick, mine folds slow,
You want to bloom, I watch it snow.
Still—when you smile, it cuts clean,
I forget age, remember green.
You make me doubt my steady skin,
Make me want to start again.

You’re too young for my ghost,
Too bright, too close.
You want my truth, but truth got cost,
You play with love, I count what’s lost.
Too young, too sure, too loud, too sweet,
You chase fire, I just feel heat.

[Bridge – lower voice, slower flow]
Don’t worship what’s already fading,
Don’t dress time like it’s worth trading.
You want the movie, I lived the reel,
There’s more to touch than what you feel.

You’re too young for my ghost,
Too bright, too close.
You want my truth, but truth got cost,
You play with love, I count what’s lost.
Too young, too sure, too loud, too sweet,
You chase fire, I just feel heat.

Still, here you are, same door, same stare,
Saying age don’t matter, like you care.
You call it fate, I call it test,
I keep distance, you call it jest.
Maybe I’m scared to see the day
When I stop saying, “go away.”
You smell of hunger, taste like sin,
And I still let you in.

Don’t call me daddy, call me tired.
Don’t call it love if it’s just wired.
You’re too young for my ghost…
but I still text back.

You’re too young for my ghost (Queer Rap reload)

For ten days I'm in RELOAD mode, reworking all my creations from the past twenty days and transforming them into a different musical universe
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.

New tracks tagged #Synth Arp Pads