No Gospel Left in You – Confronting spiritual abuse and betrayal.

No Gospel Left in Yo

Highway to the Sun

We do this because we have to. We do this because we are compelled. Watchmen is awesome. Alan Moore is a genius. Rorschach is my hero.

Compelled alternate version

About "Shadows of Silence"
Silence is a weapon. This is the sound of it backfiring.

"Shadows of Silence" was not written; it was forged out of necessity. It is a direct response to the creeping chill of censorship, the hypocrisy of a two-tiered media narrative, and the corporate-approved consensus that now masquerades as public opinion. This track is a line in the sand against the digital book burning and the slow, quiet erasure of inconvenient truths.

The song tells two stories, not as isolated incidents, but as archetypes of our time. First, the truth-teller silenced by the mob and their corporate enablers ("In Charlie Kirk's Name"). Second, the forgotten victim whose tragedy doesn't fit the preferred narrative (Iryna's story). These are the shadows—the censored voices and the ignored lives that the establishment wishes you would forget.

We didn't need a ballad; we needed a battering ram. The sonic architecture of the track—a furious, syncopated fusion of hard rock and alternative metal—is intentional. It’s the sound of frustration given a voice, of apathy being burned away by raw, defiant energy. The tension in the verses mirrors the simmering anger of the unheard, and the explosive, anthemic chorus is the cathartic release we are all denied.

This track is a rallying cry for the politically homeless, the silenced majority, and anyone with a moral compass that still points true. It’s a challenge to the gatekeepers and a reminder that truth doesn't need permission to be spoken.

Play it loud. The shadows hate the light.

(Verse 1)
In the land of the free, where voices once rang, 
They silenced a man with a bullet's cruel bang. 
Charlie Kirk spoke truth, but the mob cheered his fall, 
Indoctrinated hearts, no mercy at all. 
Like Rome's leaden plates poisoning minds from within, 
They celebrate death when opinions don't win. 
Amazon's gatekeepers axed the track, 
"In Charlie Kirk's Name"—called it wack!. 
Free speech on the pyre, burned by corporate might, 
While the powerful hide in the dead of the night.

(Chorus) 
Wake up from the circus, the bread's turning stale, 
Megacorps are feasting while our freedoms fail. 
A.I. steals the jobs, leaves us footing the bill, 
But we'll band together, shine light on the hill. 
No more apathy, no more turning away.
Release the Epstein list, bring back the day. 
From riots unspoken to voices suppressed, 
It's time to fight back, put decency to the test.

(Verse 2) 
Iryna fled war, sought safety ashore, 
But on a Charlotte train, fate closed the door. 
Stabbed in the shadows, no help from the crowd, 
She collapsed all alone, her cries not allowed. 
Where are the riots, the headlines that scream? 
For George Floyd they burned, but for her, just a dream. 
If races were flipped, the MSM would ignite, 
But white refugee blood fades out of sight. 
Peaceful protests whisper, ignored by the press, 
While lockdowns and layoffs sparked the hot mess.

(Bridge) 
It's not about money, we've got truth on our side, 
Respect and decorum, let justice be our guide. 
Corrupt politicians, hiding in plain view, 
Get 'em out of office, start something new. 
From Epstein's dark web to the A.I. machine, 
Raping the land, turning hope to a screen. 
We're in the empire's twilight, dry as a bone, 
But united we'll rise, no longer alone.

(Chorus)
Wake up from the circus, the bread's turning stale, 
Megacorps are feasting while our freedoms fail. 
A.I. steals the jobs, leaves us footing the bill, 
But we'll band together, shine light on the hill. 
No more apathy, no more turning away— 
Release the Epstein list, bring back the day. 
From riots unspoken to voices suppressed, 
It's time to fight back, put decency to the test.

(Outro) 
So here's to the fallen, Charlie and Iryna's light, 
We'll sing through the censorship, into the fight. 
No more killing dissent, no more biased divide—
Get off the couch, let the moral compass guide.

(End )



Shadows of Silence

Buy on Bandcamp

Genre: Alternative Rock / Edm-Infused Alt-Rock / Satirical Rock
Description: A Sarcastic, High-Energy Alt-Rock Track With Edm Flourishes. It Lampoons Modern Outrage Culture, Petty Social Conflicts, And Absurd Drama. Distorted Guitars, Glitchy Synths, And Punchy Percussion Back The Satirical, Theatrical Delivery, While Melodic Hooks Balance Chaos With Accessibility.

Style Of Music: Satirical Alt-Rock With Pop-Punk Energy, Cinematic Guitar Riffs, Glitchy Synth Layers, Edm-Infused Drops, Layered Vocals, And Playful Melodic Hooks.

Offended

This is a B-Side for the album "The Butcher of Whitechapel" This was the original fourth track.

[Verse 1]
The fog entwines the cobbled stone,
Its whispers pull, I’m not alone.
The streets grow still, their fear takes hold,
The Codex speaks, its dark will unfolds.

[Pre-Chorus 1]
The mist commands, it grips my soul,
A force not mine, it takes control.

[Chorus 1]
The interrupted rite awakes,
Through blood and bone, the silence breaks.
The interrupted rite will bind,
The Fog commands, the Vessel cries—
Her pulse the key, her life confined!

[Post-Chorus]
It carves! It claims! It drinks her breath!
The rite is sealed in crimson death!

[Verse 2]
"I’ll not be your sport tonight," I warn,
My chin lifts high though terror dawns.
The fog surrounds, but still I fight—
A spark defiant in endless night.
My mother’s songs, her dreams of old,
Rush through my heart before growing cold.

[Pre-Chorus 2]
I'm backed against the brick-stained wall,
Swedish songs, my mother’s call.
All memories rush as shadows fall—
The mist commands, but I stands tall.

[Chorus 2]
The interrupted rite ascends,
Her body breaks, the silence bends.
The Codex writes, the symbols shine,
The fog consumes, her soul is mine—
Her heart the price, the dark divine!

[Bridge]
The graves hum low, their secrets bleed,
The cobbles sing the Codex’ creed.
Her heart is torn, the rite survives—
The fog will feast, it claims her life!

The rite!
Defied!
Her soul denied!

[Guitar Solo]

[Breakdown]
The heart is torn, the rite near done—
But wheels on stone, the night comes undone!
A cart, a horse, a drunken song—
The ritual breaks, Zorath’nim Screams!

The fog retreats… the moment’s lost…
The interrupted rite…

[Verse 3]
Through gin-soaked eyes, I see the truth—
A woman’s shell, her stolen youth.
Organs laid like butcher’s meat,
Her glassy stare, my heart’s defeat.
"They’ll blame me," I whisper low,
While shadows laugh and fog winds blow.

[Refrain]
Her silence glows, etched in the flame,
The fog still whispers, it knows her name.

[Final Chorus]
The interrupted rite—her voice denied,
The cart wheels turn, the shadows hide.
The interrupted rite—undone, incomplete,
Her heart stolen, the ritual beat—
Cut short by fate, Zorath’nim… cheated!

[Outro]
The rite remains…
The fog sustains…
Its hunger binds…
I’m lost to time.

The Interrupted Rite

Anthem Of The Dammed

I keep the volume low.
Your ghost still pings sometimes,

I scroll for warmth in plastic light,
each face repeats the same good night.
No blood, no pulse, just patterned waves,
we’re data ghosts pretending grace.

I feel your name behind the screen,
it fades before it ever breathes.

Touch me through my digital skin,
tell me I’m real before I log in.
Every feed’s a mirror, cracked but clean,
every thought recycled, machine to machine.
If I’m alive, it’s by design —
a loop that ends where I confide.

We dream in numbers, sleep in codes,
love translated into modes.
Your typing stops — that’s how I know
the algorithm let you go.

I see your shadow in the scroll,
too perfect to be whole.

Touch me through my digital skin,
tell me I’m real before I log in.
Every feed’s a mirror, cracked but clean,
every thought recycled, machine to machine.
If I’m alive, it’s by design —
a loop that ends where I confide.

We are the crowd,
we are the code.
Lonely together,
never alone.

Touch me through my digital skin,
tell me I’m real before I log in.
Erase the silence, fake the sin,
love me once before I begin.

The page refreshes,
and I’m gone again.


Digital skin (Alternative Rock reload)

founded-land.mp3

My Inner Child Loves You

bounty on lock

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.

Digital skin (Alternative Rock reload)

Terminalose