How many days have you been here?
Can you be sure?
When was the last time you ate?
Are you certain it wasn’t only a dream?

What color is the room—do you even remember?
Or are you just inventing something to answer?
How long since you last heard your own voice?
Do you know if it would still sound like you?

When you blink, does it change anything?
Why are you blinking at all?
Is the silence outside, or inside your head?
Do you know if you’re sitting, standing, or floating?

When did your body stop belonging to you?
Do your hands still feel attached?
Or are they only memories now?
Are you sure these questions are mine, and not yours?

What if you’ve already answered them—again and again—without noticing?
Does time move forward here, or only in circles?
Why can’t you count past three without losing track?
What do you see when you try to picture light?

Is it brighter, or is it just emptier?
Do you trust the last thought you had, or did it arrive too late?
Why are you certain the walls are still here?
What if there never were any walls at all?

Can you be sure ? (Psychedelic Rock 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.

Can you be sure ? (Psychedelic Rock reload)

Terminalose