The Immaculate Glitch

Pop Glitch

Rock Glitch

It’s brown and it’s hairy,
and it tastes like butt.
Hey boys and girls,
do you wanna know what?
The worst kind of food, it is...
The coconut!

Oh, why did it come into existence?
With that foul smell and gummy consistence...
Millions of fools think it’s edible stuff!
Well, the first time that I had it,
for me was quite enough.

Coconut, it ain’t fit for pigs,
’cause it smells like ass,
and it tastes like twigs.
Coconut, it’s the sum of all my fears...
It is why I haven’t had a nice dessert in years!

Fuck you coconut,
fuck you coconut,
fuck you coconut,
you hairy bitch!

Oh, why do they put it in everything?
From breakfast cereals to hemorrhoid cream...
I long to escape its nefarious grasp,
’cause it makes me gag and it makes me gasp!

Coconut, it ain’t fit for pigs!
’Cause it smells like ass,
and it tastes like twigs!
Coconut, it’s the sum of all my fears...
It is why I haven’t had a nice dessert in years!

Fuck you coconut,
fuck you coconut,
fuck you coconut,
You hairy bitch!

F.U.C.

I got the Big Bling,
you know that’s my thing.
I like to be seen,
like a boss, like a king.
I got the Big Bling...
Big, Big, Big Bling—
you know it’s my thing!

The top three buttons of my shirt
are permanently open for display;
I got a bushy brown mat of chest hair,
and I brush and I perfume it twice a day.
It’s all goin’ according to my plan—
to become the Manly Manliest Man.
So I bought the fake hair,
and I got the fake tan,
and a Rolex that was made in Kazakhstan.

I got the Big Bling,
you know that’s my thing.
I like to be seen,
like a boss, like a king.
I got the Big Bling...
Big, Big, Big Bling—
You know it’s my thing!

So where are the ladies?
They’re just a bit shy.
They’re just a little scared,
’cause I’m such manly guy.
I’m as sharp as a razor;
I’m the Sultan of Style...

I got the Big Bling,
you know that’s my thing.
I like to be seen,
like a boss, like a king.
I got the Big Bling...
Big, Big, Big Bling—
you know it’s my thing!

Big Bling

Obvious, it’s obvious...
Obvious to who?
Use that word and I will know,
you haven’t got a clue!
So don’t say obvious.
It’s obviously untrue.

In this day and age,
when truth is so elastic,
science’s being ridiculed,
and beauty’s made of plastic...
I find myself at a loss,
I find myself at odds—
with the faults of liberalism,
and the tyranny of gods...

Obvious, it’s obvious...
Obvious to who?
Use that word and I will know,
you haven’t got a clue!
So don’t say obvious.
It’s obviously untrue.

Way back, in the modern age,
we believed in a unified truth.
Many things were less than good,
but at least we thought we should
define what is right or wrong,
keep the rich from becoming too strong;
But these days everything is wack,
There’s a billion spins for every fact.

That’s why everyone is salty,
That’s why everything’s insulting,
The entire fuckin’ system’s faulty...
What’s left to do but dance?

Obvious, it’s obvious...
Obvious to who?
Use that word and I will know,
you haven’t got a clue!
So don’t say obvious.
It’s obviously untrue.
Or not, or both...
Who knows.
Right?

Obvious

I used to smoke so much,
It got my brain fried.
That’s why my girlfriend left me,
and how I crashed my ride.
My entire life was such a drag...
So I went ahead and bought me
A brand new bag.

Of that good shit,
yeah, that good shit.
Stinkin’ up the room,
and liftin’ up the gloom.
Rollin’ that good shit,
yeah, that good shit.
Life’ll get you boned,
might as well get stoned

There I was on my sofa,
feeling very, very spaced
But that so-called good shit,
was heavily laced.
Exactly with what,
I don’t really know.
But it made me feel weird,
so I just said no more...

Of that bad shit,
yeah, that bad shit.
Filling up the room
with an aura of doom...
Fuck that bad shit,
yeah, that evil shit.
Draggin’ me too deep,
makin’ me go sleep...

Then I woke up,
to an awful stink...
So I climbed out of bed,
and I went to the sink.
And looking at the mirror,
I felt a great fear,
of the insect face
that there did appear...

Life as a bug is kinda relaxing,
I don’t have to work or pay any taxes.
I’m livin’ in the sewers with the other cockroaches,
and if a pang of hunger ever approaches—
I just take me a big fat bite...

Of that real shit,
yeah, that real shit.
Filling up the sewer,
with the odor of manure...
Shovin’ that real shit,
yeah, the actual shit shit.
Always rainin’ down,
Plenty to be found.

Boogie woogie bug bug
Boogie woogie woogie bug bug
Boogie woogie bug bug
Boogie woogie woogie bug bug

Don’t do no drugs, kids.

Boogie Woogie Bug

Give thanks...

Even when it’s dark,
even when it’s hard,
keep a grateful grin
in your gentle heart.

Give thanks for what you have,
no matter what’s your creed.
Forget all your frustration,
and free yourself from greed.
As long as you have shelter,
and your family can feed,
as long as you are healthy,
that’s all you’ll ever need.

People can be cruel,
people can be cold.
Never let that get
in your kindly soul.

Gratitude can turn
what you have into enough.
Gratitude can help
when the road is getting rough.
Gratitude’s the source
of all other virtues.
Gratitude’s the cure
to all of your issues.

Always there’s a chance,
always there’s some hope.
Find the will to fight,
find a way to cope.

Give thanks for what you have,
no matter what’s your creed.
Forget all your frustration,
and free yourself from greed.
As long as you have shelter,
and your family can feed,
as long as you are healthy,
that’s all you’ll ever need.

Give thanks...

Less attitude, more gratitude.
Less blindness, more kindness.
Let go of spite, let in more light.
Let go of fear, let in more cheer.

Don’t give in to cynicism,
don’t give in to pessimism,
don’t give in to fatalism,
break out of your mental prison,
and give thanks...

Give thanks for all the stuff you got,
give thanks for all the ones you love,
give thanks for all the love you give,
give thanks for all you have achieved.

Give thanks...

Give Thanks

He was born middle class,
but he became a czar.
He runs six social apps
and a webinar.
He’s got twenty-five wives
and a thousand cars.
He owns a chain of hotels
and a shitload of bars.

His moral fiber is so very sparse:
He killed all his rivals
and some guy named Lars.
He thinks that democracy
is just a big farce.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

He is spending big money;
he is blowing his wad
on a gargantuan rocket
with a pair of huge pods.
But the tests flights run badly,
and his rocket goes boom;
So he fires some people,
then he rants and he fumes.

He enjoys vintage wines
and rare caviars.
He keeps Kopi Luwak
in Baccarat jars.
He collects fine art
and iconic guitars.
He jams with Paul McCartney
and Ringo Starr.

He’ll try out any vice,
no matter how bizarre.
He chills in the Maldives
and parties in Qatar.
He sits in Swiss banks
smoking Cuban cigars.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

He reaches out to his friends
for funds and solutions
from people in governments
and research institutions.
He gives a passionate speech
full of fancy explanations
to the General Assembly
of the United Nations.

His godhood is near,
and his vision is far.
He’ll helm a huge starship,
like Captain Picard.
He’s the king of the world,
and now he thirsts for the stars.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

The rust-red planet
will turn dollar-green
by company drones
sent to set up the scene.
The chosen few will arrive
to establish their claims,
while the rest of us losers
go up in flames.

He is the first; we’re kept for last.
He is the future; we are the past.
He is the first; too bad he’s the worst…
His world will be blessed
while ours remains cursed.

The First Yacht on Mars

“If you can actually count your money,
then you're not a rich man.”

He was born middle class,
but he became a czar.
He runs six social apps
and a webinar.
He’s got twenty-five wives
and a thousand cars.
He owns a chain of hotels
and a shitload of bars.

His moral fiber is so very sparse:
He killed all his rivals
and some guy named Lars.
He thinks that democracy
is just a big farce.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

He is spending big money;
he is blowing his wad
on a gargantuan rocket
with a pair of pods.
But the tests run badly,
and his rocket goes boom;
So he fires some people,
then he rants and he fumes…
’Cause he wants to go to Mars.

He enjoys vintage wines
and rare caviars.
He keeps Kopi Luwak
in Baccarat jars.
He collects fine art
and iconic guitars.
He jams with Paul McCartney
and Ringo Starr.

He’ll try out any vice,
no matter how bizarre.
He chills in the Maldives
and parties in Qatar.
He sits in Swiss banks
smoking Cuban cigars.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

He reaches out to his friends
for funds and solutions
from people in governments
and research institutions.
He gives a passionate speech
full of fancy explanations
to the General Assembly
of the United Nations.

“Earth provides enough
to satisfy every man's need,
but not every man's greed.”

His godhood is near,
and his vision is far.
He’ll helm a huge starship
like Captain Picard.
He’s the king of the world,
and now he thirsts for the stars.
He’s gonna be the first
billionaire on Mars.

The rust-red planet
will turn dollar-green
by company drones
sent to set up the scene.
The chosen few will colonize,
staking out their claims
while we, the poor masses,
will go up in flames.
What a bloody shame…
back to the dust
from whence we came…

“The best thing about money
is it gives you options in life.”

He is the first; we’re kept for last.
He is the future; we are the past.
He is the first, he’ll own the universe.
His world will be blessed
while ours remains cursed…
’Cause he simply is the worst.

The First Billionaire on Mars

I’m feeling like it’s time to quit,
to give up all this boring shit.
I guess I’ll sell the things I own,
and sail away to parts unknown.
Sure, it’s a reckless thing to do,
but I went ahead and thought it through.
I’m gonna move far out of reach,
the place is called Komodo Beach.

Komodo Beach, a place of peace,
an isle of joy, a bay of bliss.
The water’s pure, the air is sweet,
the weed is strong, the rum is neat.
Komodo Beach, the sky is clear,
the sand is pink, the sea is sheer.
The dragons bite, but they’re too slow.
Yeah, that is where I wanna go…
That is where I’m gonna go.

I sold my watches, and my flat,
I sold my car and all my tat.
It’s time to give my life the slip,
and find a place aboard a ship.
It’ll have to be a modest boat,
I saved up some, but I ain’t rich,
it’s just enough to keep afloat
while living in Komodo Beach.

Komodo Beach, where money keeps,
the rent is low and food is cheap.
Where you don’t need to work at all,
so take your time and have a ball.
Komodo Beach, the beer is cold,
the palms are green, the sun is gold.
The dragons stink, but that’s okay.
Yeah, that is where I’ll want to stay.

Yeah, I’m gonna ride the dragon!
No, it’s a perfectly rational thing to do.
I’m fine, I just had one spliff
and a couple of beers.
Okay, watch me do it…
Rrrrah!

Komodo Beach…
The perfect place to surf.
Komodo Beach…
A heaven here on earth.
Komodo Beach…
It’s like my dreams came true.
Komodo Beach…
Why don’t you come here too?

Sure, sure, come on over,
just don’t crowd me, don’t crowd me.
Yeah, you know, only the cool people,
ten, twelve at the most, no more.
And spread out, yeah?
So we can all ease into it.
Oh man, that dragon bite really does hurt!
I think I’ll just pour some rum on it.
Uh yeah, that feels great…
Life sure is good.

Komodo Beach

It’s a hot summer day
and I’ve got nothin’ goin’ on.
I think I’ll just sit on my porch,
and soak up the sun.
But I also feel like
having a nice treat…
Let’s think about things
which are good to eat.

Ice cream is sweet,
but I haven’t got any,
and the lemon cake I had,
I gave it to Jenny.
Oh, hey, I know!
I’ve got fruit in my fridge!
A lovely fruit salad
would do in a pinch!

What a wonderful dish,
full of colors and flavor!
A juicy fruit salad is
something to savor.

Fun, fun, fun in the sun…
Yum, yum, yum in my tum…
Fruit salad is the best,
so tasty and full of zest!

So let’s see…
I’ve got apples and grapes
and peaches and plums,
I’ve got apricots and pears
and raisins with rum,
I’ve got cherries and bananas
and pineapple slices,
I think this fruit salad
is gonna be the nicest! 

I take my bunch of fruit
and I peel them all up,
then I get out the board
and I give them the chop,
and lastly,
I mix them in my favourite bowl.
It’s really not complicated at all!

What a wonderful dish,
full of colors and flavor!
A juicy fruit salad is
something to savor.

Fun, fun, fun in the sun…
Yum, yum, yum in my tum…
Fruit salad is the best,
so tasty and full of zest!

I’m now on my porch
with the bowl in my lap,
crunching and munching
and chewing it up.
The sun is so hot
and shiny in the sky…
Fruit salad’s a joy!
I urge you to try.

Fruit Salad

This world requires
all kinds of minds;
you think that I’m broken,
but I’m just fine.
I’m different, not flawed...
just a little bit odd,
and I won’t be involved
in emotional fraud.

Your exuberance is unrelenting,
but I choose to remain authentic;
instead of selling bogus passion,
maybe start working on compassion.

Unbalanced optimism
is your toxic notion,
too spineless to confront
your negative emotions;
it’s such a mindless method
to promote mental health:
if you want to be accepted,
just diminish yourself.

You keep telling me to lighten up
and get a bit more jolly;
I’d rather that you all wake up
and smell the melancholy.
Your vapid vigor is vain
and so viciously vile;
stop poisoning my brain
with your strychnine smiles.

These strychnine smiles...
Whoa oh…
Sick strychnine smiles...
Yeah yeah…
Stop hampering my heart,
stop messing up my mind
with your strychnine smiles...
Oh ooh whoa,
ooh whoa, ooh whoa whoa…

Your moronical expectations
are not my concern;
your emotional machinations
shall be thoroughly spurned.
If the crop doesn’t grow,
fix the soil, not the crop;
I won’t cancel my feelings
just to keep this damn job.

Neurodiversity’s like biodiversity—
it’s very crucial to the human race;
personal growth means facing adversity,
and walking the path at your own pace.

I keep my autonomy,
even in a crowd;
I hear my own melody,
even if you’re loud.
You think that it’s bad
to be angry or sad?
Well, I think it’s quite mad
to be perpetually glad.

That’s why I don’t need
your false reinforcements,
that’s why I don’t want
your spurious endorsements.
Your sunny gaslighting
is a cognitive prison,
and you’re criminalizing
people’s neuroticism.

The reign of positivity
directs the modern hive:
to never speak the truth
of what it's like to be alive.

Your conformity
is the jailer of freedom,
it’s the foe of the strange
and the killer of change.
Your mediocrity
is the bringer of boredom,
it’s the bane of the bright
and the death of delight.

Unbalanced optimism
is your toxic notion,
too spineless to confront
your negative emotions;
it’s such a mindless method
to promote mental health:
if you want to be accepted,
just diminish yourself.

You keep telling me to lighten up
and get a bit more jolly;
I’d rather that you all wake up
and smell the melancholy.
Your vapid vigor is vain
and so viciously vile;
stop poisoning my brain
with your strychnine smiles.

These strychnine smiles...
Whoa oh…
Sick strychnine smiles...
Yeah yeah…
Stop smothering my soul,
stop sullying my sight
with your strychnine smiles...
Oh ooh whoa,
ooh whoa, ooh whoa whoa…

Anger is vastly superior to shame;
sadness is so much better than guilt.
Tension is healthier than self-blame;
these are the things from which we are built.

You can't have hope without despair;
you can’t have grit without some wear.
You can’t have happiness without pain;
you can’t fake life and still be sane.

Strychnine Smiles

The winds grow cold,
and they are carrying the scent
of bygone fairytales.
But I’m getting old,
and all my innocence was spent
along this lifelong trail.

My body aches,
and my mind is sifting
through the gravel of my memories. 
My spirit breaks, 
yet my heart is singing
all these arbitrary melodies.

Death is waiting in the wings,
counting every passing year;
I try to think of other things,
but it’s a persistent fear.

My heart is racing
when I’m facing
the inevitable.
I need to breathe in
and to scream out
all the fear that I hold…
Whoa ooh whoa

Heart attack, brain attack,
cancers, tumors or the flu.
Falling down, cracking up,
something’s bound to get to you.

Palpitations, permutations,
on maturation and expiration.
Indigestion, indignation,
at my coming termination.

I don’t care how,
just not right now.

Death is waiting in the wings,
counting every passing year;
I try to think of other things,
but it’s a persistent fear.

My heart is racing
when I’m facing
the inevitable.
I need to breathe in
and to scream out
all the fear that I hold.
Oh ooh ooh ooh

Still, there’s beauty in autumn,
and much pride in the fall.
Some big dreams didn’t happen,
but you can’t have it all.

I’ve got grace, I’ve got style,
so many reasons to smile.
And with you here by my side,
I’ll try to take it all in stride…

Ohhh, take it in stride, baby,
Enjoy the rest of my ride,
mm-hmm
and roll ahead with the tide,
Hey hey
Until the day that I die.

Whoa oh oh oh
Whoa yeah yeah yeah
Oh yeah

The Inevitable

On the shore of the Black Sea
lies my favorite place to be.
South of the Odesa Port,
you’ll find the Brutalist Resort!

It ain't clean, it ain't new,
but it's got an awesome view,
and the ballroom is still sound,
so come over and get down!

Abandoned, but renowned
to be a stellar party spot,
for the people in the know,
who love to drop it like it’s hot.

The Brutalist Resort,
that’s where we meet
to blast some beats, yeah.
The Brutalist Resort,
the perfect place
to bomb the bass...
In your face!

Whoa whoa, whoa ohh,
Brutalist Resort, baby...
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Our Brutalist Resort, yeah!
Yeah!
It’s a groovy old pile
where we kick it in style!
Uh-huh, uh-huh.

The White Lotus can't compare
with our Yellow Sunflower.
It was the best hotel out there,
’till the economy soured.

The concrete walls are cracked,
and the air is skunky,
but the dancefloor is superb,
so let's all get funky!

That’s where Stilyagi hipsters
went for cocktails and beer,
and where Serhiy Paradzhanov
swung from the chandelier.

Then the punk rockers came,
with their tall, spiky hair,
and eventually the ravers,
who made it their lair.

We've got varennya preserves,
and a stack of combat rations.
Dark olive M-Tac coats
are the prevailing fashion.
The speakers are exploding
with electro folk trance,
while the horilka is maintaining
our hectic dance.

The Brutalist Resort,
is where we party all night long.
The Brutalist Resort,
the vibe is tight,
the booze is strong.
Sing our song!

Whoa whoa, whoa ohh,
Brutalist Resort, baby...
Yeah, yeah, yeah!
Our Brutalist Resort, yeah!
Yeah!
It’s a groovy old pile
where we kick it in style!
Uh-huh, uh-huh.

Ukraina, let’s party,
for the strength of the folk!
The triumph of rhythm
shall bolster our song.
Yeah, the vigorous spirit
of liquor and smoke,
has made us all very happy
and healthy, and strong!

Through stormy seas
the melody of music
has steered us,
along the great groove
that the trident did lead!
With a jubilant beat,
we will raise up the people,
inspired by Nemiroff shots
and some good Klychkov weed!

The Brutalist Resort,
near the Odesa Port.
The Brutalist Resort,
that’s where we hold our court,
uh-huh.
The Brutalist Resort,
tell all your cool friends.
The Brutalist Resort,
it’s where the fun never ends.
Get down…

Slava Ukraini!

The Brutalist Resort

Go get it!
What you want to achieve.
Go get it!
Visualize and believe.
Don’t set it aside, incomplete.
Don’t let it become a defeat.

The city sleeps,
but you’re awake,
distressed by doubts
that you can’t shake.
You're trapped inside
this daily routine,
which is turning you
into a human machine.

The future’s calling;
so clear your head,
resume the path
you used to tread.
Dust off your dreams,
it’s time to make them true;
get back on track
and push on through!

Go get it!
The prize is in sight.
Go get it!
Don’t give up the fight.
Go grab it!
The moment is yours.
Don't quit until your victory is sure.

The critics will chide you
for being too bold;
they’ll say that your story
will never be told.
They’ll measure the risk,
they’ll picture the fall;
but their speculations
don’t matter at all.

The mirror displays
what your soul used to be;
let go of that image
and break yourself free.
Regrets are a burden,
so cast them away;
your only concern
is what happens today.

Go get it!
What you want to achieve.
Go get it!
Visualize and believe.
Don’t set it aside, incomplete.
Don’t let it become a defeat.

You’ll swim in sweat,
you’ll feel the burn;
the more you grind,
the more you’ll earn.
The finish line is getting near;
so forge ahead and have no fear.
Forget the comfort, face the heat;
your victory will taste so sweet!
Let every heartbeat that you feel
enhance your single-minded will!

This is the pressure
that’ll temper your soul;
this is the effort that’ll
make your life whole.
Trust in the fire
you’re holding inside
to keep you sustained
until the end of the ride!

Go get it!
The prize is in sight.
Go get it!
Don’t give up the fight.
Go grab it!
The moment is yours.
Don't quit until your victory is sure.

Go Get It!

Cloaked in shadows,
I remain a mysterious enigma.
My music is a reflection of a spirit
both dark and delicately sweet,
twisted yet deeply sentimental.

All original lyrics and music
concepts were 100% written
and designed by me;
the production was realized
using the Suno AI platform.
As a pro plan subscriber,
I retain all commercial and
intellectual rights to this work.