Electric air, skin of sound
Heat unfolding, lights unbound

You smell like mystery
Pulse hits under circuitry
Night bends, reality thins

I chase the scent, it moves like time
Your breath rewinds the line

You smell like mystery
Moving through me

Glass waves, slow motion fever
Echo burns, I still feel her

Mystery, inside the heat
Mystery, I lose my beat

Fading pulse, I’m not free
You smell like mystery

You smell like mystery

Morning light hits the sidewalks slow
Workers in the shadows make the whole world glow
Hands dirty while the table looks fine
Invisible hearts keep the feast in line

Before the oven warms, before the kids wake up
They mop the floor, load the crates, fill the cup
Delivery bikes glide through the frozen dawn
While the houses shine like the struggle is gone
Glitter on the plates but the palms stay rough
They hold the weight steady though the pay stays tough
Hands that carry joy we all want to claim
But the clock keeps bleeding and we forget the name
Traffic lights blink on the labor they hide
Grind in the dark while the rich sit inside
Service with a smile but the soul runs thin
Gratitude never pays for the hours they bring

Hands dirty, houses clean
They build the moment we call serene
Thank you for your service, but the truth hits deep
Gratitude never pays for the hours we keep

Holiday rush and the streets overflow
Workers push carts in a silent show
Store rooms stacked like a secret truth
Bodies getting older while we guard our youth
Aprons tied tight like a pact with fate
Break rooms quiet while the orders wait
People cheer loud at the feast they adore
But the ones who cook stand behind the door
Packages land with a soft little knock
But the courier's breath hits the icy block
We toast the joy, forget the cost
Warm homes glow while their heat gets lost

Hands dirty, houses clean
They build the moment we call serene
Thank you for your service, but the truth hits deep
Gratitude never pays for the hours we keep

Late night sweeping in an empty hall
Echo of footsteps like a distant call
Dishes stacked tall like a mountain of proof
Every smiling table has a laboring roof
They fold the cloth, close the shop, end the shift
Carry quiet burdens that we never lift
We dance in the kitchen they wiped down twice
We praise the feast but forget the price
Invisible crowd in the back of the frame
They hold the world steady while we claim the fame
If love had wages they would never owe
But the system pays nothing to the ones who glow

Hands dirty, houses clean
They build the moment we call serene
Thank you for your service, but the truth hits deep
Gratitude never pays for the hours we keep

If joy has pillars these hands built the ground
If peace has music they shaped the sound
Service unspoken under warm porch lights
Invisible heroes walking home at night

Thank You for Your Service

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 #reverse stabs