Funk

Hasan, Hasan

Hasan, Hasan, your shadow’s long (Remix)

Outbound one, don't care where I'm from  
I’ve packed my suit, and I don't care where the damage comes  
Outbound one, baby, close that door  
No vegetation, no salvation, nothing left to store  
Outbound one, breathing toxic air  
It’s not for me, but my rocket’s almost halfway there  
Outbound one, burning through the clouds  
I hit the button, the planet’s getting way too loud  

Outbound one  
Nothing left to become  
Outbound one  
Nothing left to become  
Outbound one  
Nothing left to become  

Outbound one, I see the engines glow  
You keep your forest, I’ll be orbiting a brand new show  
Outbound one, your blue is turning grey  
It doesn’t suit me honey, I prefer the lunar way  
Outbound one, by twenty thirty two, I’ll be in space  
And with a little push I won’t miss the human race  
Outbound one, let me take my run  
Say your goodbyes to my vacuum-pressured laser gun  

Outbound one  
Ah!  
Outbound one  
Outbound one (outbound one)  

Outbound one, by twenty thirty two, I’ll be in space  
And with a little push I won’t miss the human race  
Outbound one, by twenty thirty two, I’ll be in space  
And with a little push I won’t miss the human race  
Outbound one, by twenty thirty two, I’ll be in space  
And with a little push I won’t miss the human race  

I won’t look back, yeah  
I won’t look back, yeah  
I won’t look back, yeah  
I won’t look back, yeah  


Outbound one

Woke up with a voice inside
Telling me I’ve been rewired
Thoughts in loops I can’t describe
Memory’s stuck on autoplay

Every tap, every scroll
Keeps me feeling less whole
I can’t tell what I know
What’s me and what’s the code?

Digital conscience talking back to me
Telling me what’s right, what’s reality
Feed the stream, delete the dream
Now I’m living in a screen

Heard a beep inside my chest
Binary pulse under stress
Flashing eyes and plastic grace
Smiling hard to hide the trace

Every post, every ping
Feels like puppet strings
I don’t move—I’m displayed
Losing sense of what I made

Digital conscience talking back to me
Telling me what’s right, what’s reality
Feed the stream, delete the dream
Now I’m living in a screen

Can I trust the voice I hear?
Is it mine or engineer’d?
Thought I’d choose what I become
But the mirror’s made of ones and none

Digital conscience, are you on my side?
Or just a ghost in the data tide?
Feed the stream, delete the dream
Now I’m nothing but a meme

Digital Conscience part 1

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.

Funk

Terminalose