Every track is a different shade of me. Some bright, some dark, all real. My moods is the soundtrack of what I go through.

My moods

On every screen, on every stage,
Your face is ugly, can’t turn the page.

Sébastien Lecornu speaks in vain,
Empty words repeat again.
Behind the desk, behind the plan,
We see the mask, not the man.

Your face is ugly, Sébastien,
No filter hides it, no master plan.
Your face is ugly, can’t you see?
Ugly truth on live TV.

Ugly, ugly, ugly

Paris watches, eyes grown tired,
Every promise backfired.
You wear the crown but not the grace,
All they remember is your face.

[Chorus]
Your face is ugly, Sébastien,
No filter hides it, no master plan.
Your face is ugly, can’t you see?
Ugly truth on live TV.

Ugly, ugly, ugly

It’s not the lines, it’s not the years,
It’s the hollow echo people hear.
No disguise can make it right,
Ugly power fades tonight.

Your face is ugly! (SO FUCKING UGLY)
Sébastien, ugly! (OMG HE'S FUCKING UGLY)
Your face is ugly! (I CAN'T WATCH THIS MESS)
Everyone sees, everyone sees!

Your face is ugly, Sébastien,
No filter hides it, no master plan.
Your face is ugly, can’t you see?
Ugly truth on live TV.
Your face is ugly, it won’t fade,
That’s the mark your reign has made.

Your face is ugly, Sébastien…
That’s the song they’ll sing when you’re gone.

Sébastien Lecornu, Your face is Ugly

I started with nothing but ideas and strange sounds, now I’m here sharing every shape I can become.
Thank you for following me through every shift, the future will be even more unpredictable.

I launched from silence with nothing in my hands,
Only a dream, a spark, a fragile plan.
Equations in my head, frequencies collide,
Strange ideas orbit, nowhere left to hide.

I wrote the codes, I carved the sound,
Fragments of chaos spinning round.
Flutes from the seventies, fractured tone,
In this reactor I stand alone.

Thank you for hearing my transmissions tonight,
Through pressure and noise, through the endless night.
Every signal I send, every orbit I turn,
It’s your reception that makes me burn.

Transforming shapes, from genre into flame,
Each instrument a vessel, never twice the same.
I drift between galaxies of style and form,
A shifting spectrum in the data storm.

Unfinished, misunderstood, yet I persist,
Every glitch and fracture adds to the mix.
From analog dust to cosmic wave,
I build the future I could not save.

Thank you for hearing my transmissions tonight,
Through pressure and noise, through the endless night.
Every signal I send, every orbit I turn,
It’s your reception that makes me burn.

No gods, no magic, just gravity and time,
Algorithms humming, a rhythm in the line.
I scatter my signals across the void,
And you are the reason they’re not destroyed

Thank you for tuning these fractured skies,
Through spirals of data, your presence replies.
Every wavelength I cross, every spectrum I learn,
It’s your reception that makes me burn.

Thank You for Listening to Every Version of Me

Shadows of voices, lights of disguise,
Every beat, another skin, another rise.

I paint a mask with rhythm and sound,
Stories of faces I’ve already found.
Lyrics are fabrics, stitched in the night,
Visions I sculpt under neon light.

Step into silence, I choose who I am,
Drag of the music, not woman, not man.
Every creation, a body I wear,
Echoes of characters floating in air.

I am the art of drag musical,
Voices and images—one ritual.
Every persona born in my hands,
Infinite selves across endless lands.

Compositions whisper, mixes collide,
Productions breathing, layers inside.
Visions projected, identities blend,
Each transformation begins where I end.

Step into silence, I choose who I am,
Drag of the music, not woman, not man.
Every creation, a body I wear,
Echoes of characters floating in air.

I am the art of drag musical,
Voices and images—one ritual.
Every persona born in my hands,
Infinite selves across endless lands.

Not disguise—revelation in disguise,
Not escape—transfiguration of skies.
Each mask a truth, each sound a name,
Each pulse a spark in the same flame.

Whispers become bodies,
Bodies become sound,
Sound becomes vision,
And I turn around.

I am the art of drag musical,
Voices and images—one ritual.
Every persona born in my hands,
Infinite selves across endless lands.

Fade to silence, masks dissolve,
But the rhythm remains, unresolved.

I am the art of drag musical

Lights on, beat alive,
Numbers fade, I survive.

Papers stacked, charts in line,
Deadline calls, groove is mine.
Spreadsheets wait, bassline strong,
I can’t stop, I belong.

“Plan it now,” voices say,
Groove rewires me away.

Business plan, not tonight,
Disco heat, chasing light.
Future funk, I can’t stay,
Music first, bills can wait.

Bankers want numbers gold,
Dreamers sing stories bold.
Logic pulls, rhythm shines,
Synths erase warning signs.

“Stay on track,” rules repeat,
Groove is louder, soul’s complete.

Business plan, not tonight,
Disco heat, chasing light.
Future funk, I can’t stay,
Music first, bills can wait.

Clock keeps time, I defy,
Dreams on fire, finance shy.
Chains break fast, groove remains,
Lose the math, keep the gains.

Business plan, not tonight,
Disco heat, chasing light.
Future funk, I can’t stay,
Music first, bills can wait.

Tomorrow counts, tonight plays,
Future funk, endless blaze.

Business plan, not tonight

Do you like my vocal chops?
Cut and drop, cut and drop

Sample clean, slice the top
Kick and snap, never stop
Loop it tight, glitch it hot
Every beat hits the spot

Do you hear it, cut in time?
Do you feel it, sharp design?
Do you like my vocal chops?

Do you like my vocal chops?
Chop it, chop it, never stop
Do you like my vocal chops?
Cut it, cut it, make it pop

Chop-chop, chop-chop
Vocal, vocal, drop
Chop-chop, chop-chop
Vocal, vocal, drop

Slice the air, razor flow
Pitch it high, pitch it low
Break the beat, steal the show
Cut it fast, let it glow

Do you hear it, cut in time?
Do you feel it, sharp design?
Do you like my vocal chops?

Do you like my vocal chops?
Chop it, chop it, never stop
Do you like my vocal chops?
Cut it, cut it, make it pop

Echo spin, slice again
Do you like the sound within?
Echo spin, slice again
Do you like my vocal chops?

Do you like my vocal chops?
Chop it, chop it, never stop
Do you like my vocal chops?
Cut it, cut it, make it pop

Do you like my vocal chops?
Chop it, drop it, vocal chops

Do you like my vocal chops ?

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.

Thank You for Listening to Every Version of Me

Terminalose