Hare Oh, In.  My disguise too thin like my arms, thicc legsz, No frog, my jumpsuit for cleaning they kept saying "go to jail go to jail" You're a terrible person, I recall when they lost their mind.  I sent all my astral rage at a mist connection...  Missed direction...   Time to crush some lines and shift... Going for walks on the sand is pussy shit, try razor blades and smoldering coals, My Samahdi smoke meth

thedevilukno

Originally hailing from Louisiana, Sheets Soulstice is an attempt to bridge the gap between modern and ancient forms of communal music.  Blending folk, hip hop, and analog sound tapestries together, Sheets weaves together experiences rather than just tracks.  After a hiatus, Sheets will be returning to write, produce, and release music [edit - and film / visual arts] co'nsi'stent'ly ASAP.

The backdrop the near future, the setting: bleak.  Dickhole Dupree returns to his dusty ass shithole to find his wife rearranging their digital plant wall, the only serious investment they made since moving in.  He kicks back in his graviton couch and cuts on the quadrilateral triangle box to watch football.  It's The Sophisticated Angles vs. The Here-say Arguments again returning for the title match after an unremarkable tie for what seems like another one.  "The Day of the Dog Begins when you eat the 9th parasite," he sends up through his meditational hyperlink.  His wife opens the parachute door and responds through said orifice:  "please do not wear the chicken suit."  But it was too late.  He looks down at his bioflesh and to his aghastfulness sees the glimmer of crystalline feathers instead of his normal brown peacoat.  He lets out a horrendous yelp and leaps out of his chair and finds that his wife his vanished and yet her voice eerily remained resonating through the hallway speaking of the kale salad she had auto-digested earlier that day.
.

senseless violins and lying marimbas
Instagram:  @sheets_soulstice
houjichasamurai@gmail.com

New tracks tagged #Whatheydointhere