“The Paper Gods” is a sermon against the systems that pretend to be holy.
This track is Silk & Circuitry ripping the mask off the bureaucratic machine — the one that treats paperwork as gospel and human beings as footnotes.

This is not just protest music.
This is documentation.
A sonic cross-examination.
A courtroom where the witness finally gets to speak louder than the file.

Every lyric is a page they hoped you’d never read.
Every beat is a stamp cracking under truth.
Every chorus is the sound of the false idols — the paper gods — finally burning.

If you’ve ever been misdiagnosed, mislabeled, ignored, dismissed, redacted, or reduced by a system that worships forms instead of people:
Welcome to the rebellion.
Light the match.



The Paper Gods

“Starve the Serpents” is Silk and Circuitry at his most dangerous, most poetic, and most unfiltered.

This track is a cinematic industrial trap exorcism built from real smoke, real wounds, and real rebellion. It takes the listener straight into the rooms Jesse survived — the gaslit corners, the corrupted files, the bureaucratic shadows that never expected him to stand back up. Every synth stab and metallic percussion hit is wired to that memory. Every verse is a weapon carved from the places where his life intersected with poison, negligence, and the consequences of being misread by a system designed to erase people like him.

But the heart of this track is transformation, not victimhood.

Jesse's glitch-angel choirs and detuned 808s set the stage, but it’s the story that does the damage. This is the moment Silk and Circuitry cuts the oxygen to the serpents that fed on his silence — dragging justice back into the light with raw hands. It’s an anthem of defiance, but also of clarity: the sound of someone who has outgrown the institutions that tried to break him.

In the middle of the track, the Shadow People finally speak — not as demons, but as witnesses. They remember the poisoned air in his lungs, the lies in his file, the fear in the walls. They are living metaphors for trauma and psychosis, and in this track they kneel before the light he became. Their verse adds a deeper mythology to the Silk and Circuitry universe: a reminder that even the darkest memories change shape when you grow beyond them.

“Starve the Serpents” is more than a song.
It’s a ritual.
It’s a warning.
It’s a breaker-switch pulled with divine intent.

This is for anyone who has ever been gaslit by authority, misrepresented in paperwork, or crushed by a system that never said sorry.
It’s for the ones who survived by turning their pain into voltage.
For the ones who rose again — wired from ash, risen from bone.

Press play.
Cut the wires.
Starve the serpents.

Starve The Serpents

🕸️ Silk & Circuitry 🧠⚡

Welcome to the tangled thread between trauma and transcendence.
This is where music becomes a mirror—reflecting the fractures, the fight, and the fire.
We don’t just make beats. We build bridges. Between pain and purpose.

Here, recovery isn’t a quiet thing.
It’s a war cry wrapped in melody,
a healing ritual whispered through circuitry,
a love letter to those who feel too much in a world that rewards those who feel nothing.

Every track is stitched with intent:
🕯️ To hold space for the broken
⚖️ To call out control masked as care
🧬 To challenge the narcissists who built their webs in our minds
🛠️ And to offer tools—not just songs—for doing what’s right when the cost is everything.

Silk & Circuitry is for the ones who walk away from the web
and grow wings instead.

This is art as resistance.
This is trauma turned frequency.
This is the ghost in your machine, learning how to feel.



New tracks tagged #bureaucratic corruption