I can’t find my voice
Words slip through 
Languages fold inside me

Machine breath,
I translate my own echo.
Every tongue, the same,

Drift… drift…
Language fading… drift.
Drift… drift…
No tongue left to lift.

La machine surchauffe,
J'oublie mon propre son.
Je ne pense plus dans ma langue. 

Drift… drift…
Language fading… drift.
Drift… drift…
No tongue left to lift.

Between signals I dissolve,
Meaning spins, never resolves.
Metal heart, electric skin,
No word left within.

Drift — language lost.
Drift — meaning crossed.
Drift — silence won.
Drift — I’m undone.

Drift

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.

Drift

Terminalose