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

We live on a placid island of ignorance
in the midst of black seas of infinity,
and it was not meant that
we should voyage far.

Reports are coming in
of a horrible groaning sound
rising out of the Puerto Rico Trench.

Government officials refuse
to address the rumored recent
disappearances of people
and livestock.

The global mental health crisis 
deepens as professionals
confront unprecedented levels
of anxiety and nightmares.

Attention! This is not a drill;
A level four mandatory 
evacuation is now in effect
for all coastal regions.

Dare you not disturb the sleep
of the dwellers in the deep,
let them lie for evermore
underneath the ocean floor.

The Old Ones will whisper;
The Old Ones will wake;
The Old Ones will rule over Earth;
The spheres will collide;
there's nowhere to hide;
We’ll all curse the day of our birth.

They will rise!
Whoa oh oh oh oh oh
They will rise!
Woah oh yeah
They will rise!
Whoa oh oh oh oh oh
They will rise!
Woah oh yeah

Following sporadic sightings of 
monstrous creatures in the Atlantic,
military sources have now 
verified the loss of several naval 
ships in recent engagements.

Our defenses are ineffective;
we are dealing with a threat
that we simply can’t understand.

Surveillance satellites have 
confirmed the sudden 
appearance of an unidentified 
colossal object in the Bermuda Rise.

A substantial portion of global 
communication has been hijacked
by a rogue transmission;
this broadcast has been linked to 
several ongoing incidents
of mass delusions!

Put your hands on both your ears,
and hope that you will never hear
their dismal song of joy and fear,
swelling through the atmosphere.

[Chorus]

Field reports indicate that large 
segments of the world’s population
are performing disturbing rituals,
completely unresponsive to commands.

There are no longer any 
sovereign nations;
strange entities are controlling 
the minds of Mankind.

Praise be!
Their Great Triumph is complete.

Now we shall bow down
and accept the dreaming.

Our destruction is purification!
Our madness is understanding!
Our silence is peace!

Darkness falls, an endless night,
filling all our hearts with fright;
Grim gods loom, vast as the sky,
gazing down with baleful eye.

Hear our cries!
Whoa oh oh oh oh oh
Hear our cries!
Woah oh yeah
Close your eyes!
Whoa oh oh oh oh oh
Death’s your prize!
Woah oh yeah

They Will Rise

Dance-off!
Dance-off!

Shut your trap,
and dance-off!
Cut the crap,
and dance-off!
Get all lit,
and throw down!
This is it...
the showdown!
Boom!

Never have I ever,
to be quite frank,
looked at such an utter
lack of skill n’ swank.

Y’all was born
with two left feet,
so give it up
and take a seat.

Just watch me move,
I’ll school your ass.
My groove is smooth,
with tons of class.

Oh, you think I’m wrong?
Well, sucka, bring it on!

[Chorus]

The truth is plain,
I got you cold.
Your whole routine,
is weak and old.

My flare’s on lock,
I rule this block.
Your act is poor,
so clear the floor.

Yeah, I’m fire,
like the flames of hell.
So save your time
and ring the bell.

Hurtin’ from the diss I pitch?
Tough titty, bitch.

[Chorus]

I can do the headspin
and the windmill.
Y’all be busy graspin’
how to stay still.

My style is king,
your set’s a mess.
I own this thing,
while you just stress.

Now the battle’s won,
your ass is done.
So run on home,
my little son.

Just turn around,
and walk off!
See me crowned,
and walk off!
Take the fail,
and move on!
Tuck your tail,
and be gone!
Boom!

Hahah… Just look at him go!
Skulkin’ away, all bent and shit!
That’s just sad, man...
But hey, all in the game, baby.
All in the game...

Boom!

The Showdown

Tension is who
you think you should be,
but calmness is who
you really are.

Put your feet up,
kick back and rest.
Take a load off,
it’s for the best.
Laze around,
recharge yourself.
Prioritize your mental health.

The first step
toward change
is awareness,
and the second step
is acceptance.

When you feel low,
just take a chill pill.
The more you let go,
the better you’ll feel.
Forget your cares,
and have break.
The world can wait,
for goodness sake.

You yourself,
as much as anybody
in the entire universe,
deserve your own
love and affection.

Delight yourself,
make joy your goal.
Relax your body,
and heal your soul.
Dream happy dreams,
think happy thoughts.
Make sure to smile
and to laugh a lot.

The mind is everything.
What you think
is what you become.

Close your eyes
and drift away.
Staying still
will calm your day.

Just slowly breathe in,
then slowly breathe out.
Yeah, gently breathe in,
then gently breathe out.
First breath it all in,
then let it all out.
Be in the now…
We’ve shown you how.

Copium Cantata

Seize the day!
Take it in!
Go all out!
Own the scene!
Spread your wings!
Chase your dream!
Make the leap!
Brave the stream!

Wilde and Bukowski lived in a bottle,
Ledger and Belushi went at it full throttle.
Bonham and Best pickled their brains,
Winehouse and Cobain ran out of veins.
They garnered fame and gathered wealth,
but wasted all their mental health.
They craved the rush and paid the cost,
they blazed the trail, but wound up lost.

To explore the depths, you must face the dark...

They are the saints of excess.
They were divine, they were a mess.
They had it all, but not for long.
They shone too bright, they lived too strong.
They were the mad ones,
out of control.
They went for wild fun,
they had a ball.
They took too much, they felt too deep.
Their legacy is ours to keep.

Seize the day!
Take it in!
Go all out!
Own the scene!
Spread your wings!
Chase your dream!
Make the leap!
Brave the stream!

Farley and Moon loved clowning around,
Kerouac and Dean liked going to town.
Thompson and Hemingway had a real blast,
Parker and Holiday faded out fast.
They had gifts that you can’t buy,
but they flew so very high.
The sun burned down their fragile wings,
they died like dogs, but lived like kings.

Whatever goes up must surely come down.

[Chorus]

Hendrix and Jones never made twenty eight,
Joplin and Morrison met the same fate.
Basquiat and Phoenix fumbled the ball,
Wilson and Wood both took a wet fall.
Their whole lives became a disaster.
Their demons just couldn’t be mastered.
Constantly saying they’re fine,
while going right out of their minds.

Dance with the Devil, go up in flames...

[Chorus]

Is ours to keep!
Yeah yeah
So spread your wings!
Oh
Go chase your dream…
Whoa whoa oh
Go brave that stream…

Oh oh ooh whoa oh
Oh oh ooh whoa oh
Oh oh ooh whoa oh
Oh oh ooh whoa oh
Whoa oh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh
Ooh ooh ooh ooh

The Saints of Excess

Ohhh
Hey hey alright,
we got that groovy second sight.
If you wanna know how,
listen up!

We have many herbs
to help us see beyond our eyes.
We have many shrooms
that let us pierce the veil of lies.
It is our duty to ourselves
and to the race,
to open up the portals 
into time and space….
Keep pace, ace.

We see all the layers of creation,
distant realms of imagination.
Yes, my friends, we see far.
Alright, now!

We are braver than the rest
and we shall risk our minds.
Some of us will feel the stress 
that leads into decline.
Reaping the rewards
of our mental might,
secret revelations
hidden in light.
Shining brightly…

We see all the layers of creation,
distant realms of imagination.
It’s outta sight, it’s alright…
Wow!

Be not afraid
of the perils of the deep,
your mind will shield you
while your mortal body sleeps.
Fly over shadows
and burning pits of flame, 
soar over kingdoms
that never had been named.
Blast off…

We see all the layers of creation,
distant realms of imagination.
Oh yeah

Oh baby, open up that third eye!
Fly into the starry sky,
completely outside of your brain!
Grooving in the astral plane…
Get down!

We See Far

I don’t want the perfect fade if it’s already made, 'cause you need to earn your friction by a life of conviction.
It ain’t all about the fit, you also gotta have some grit and a little bit of wit to be impeccably lit.

Cityboy, cityboy, a walking contradiction, living out his life in a tailored realm of fiction.
Cityboy, cityboy, refreshing his routine, lifting all his cool fits from Popeye magazine.
Poor hollow cityboy, is there any way at all to fill the ever growing hole that is consuming your soul?

I used to be a happy kid, so long ago that I forget.
Maybe there’s a way to fix me, but I haven’t found it yet. A new jacket perhaps? Yeah…

Just another Monday evening, when the shadows move slow and my lonely soul is basking in the vanishing glow.
My chocolate brown loafers kiss the concrete gray and my olive green jacket keeps the cold at bay.
As I’m heading downtown to my favourite thrift shop, my earpods are playing some jazzy hip hop.
My mind is dwelling on the glorious past, ‘cause my retro nostalgia is endlessly vast. Contemplating hipster myths woven in alpaca wool about the good old vintage days when everything was super cool.
But they’re all just the product of vicarious affections, bounced culture to culture like ping pong reflections.

Curated to perfection, mm-hmm…
Costumed for protection, mm-hmm…
Conquered by possessions, mm-hmm…
And crippled by obsessions…

Loaded with my finds and I’m feeling alright as a million neon lights blaze up in the night.
I’m going to a spot where the black drip is pure, a pedigree concoction that makes me feel sure.
I drink my premium brew, it's fifteen dollars a cup.
They tell me it’s Jamaican, but they probably made that up.

[Chorus]
A nice pair of boots might ease the pain a little… right?

I go back to the street, where all the feelings are suppressed, the city noise will hide my emotional distress.
There’s a soft ghostly drone as the late-night trains pass, I get on the last one home and trace raindrops on the glass.
My apartment is my haven—an immaculate vision—the needle hits the record with meticulous precision. The crackling is soothing and the rhythm is kicking as I open up the bag to examine my pickings.

[Bridge]

Every jacket is a history of patience on the loom, an indigo hued mystery which dissipates my gloom.
They took the blue collar pride of a practical tool and polished out the rough edges to make it more cool.
Now this slick fabrication tells a much cleaner tale, a simulated memory that’s ready for sale.
It’s like the map of some country that I will never roam… I didn’t earn all these clothes, but they sure feel like home.
I love the craft and the fit and I don’t claim the past, just a tourist of the knit, trying to make his dream last.
‘Cause a jacket’s like a blueprint for the man you wish to be… It’s expression, not deception, it’s my way of breaking free; It’s a weathered fresh beginning, piled up neatly on a shelf; It isn’t worn for adoration, I am dressing for myself.

[Chorus]
How about a graphic tee? That’s a quick pick me up, for sure.

I’m still up at four AM, trying different combinations, searching for a solid look that manufactures elation; It’s the small, precise details that help me get through, though my bank account is empty and the rent is long due.
We only get one life, might as well be looking good, listen to some cool music and enjoy great food.
Now the needle has been lifted and the melody dies, I guess it’s time for me to hang it in and say my goodbyes.

See you later cityboy, tuck in and sleep tight, may your silly little dreams be pleasant tonight. Dream about New Balance shoes or a pair of OrSlow blues…

Cityboy Bebop

Ah ah ah ah
Ooh ooh whoa oh
Ah ah ah ah
Ooh ooh whoa oh

I’m texting you a mountain
of silly moonstruck jive.
I’m offering to take you
on a midnight drive.
I’m assuming that we’ll both
be vibing in perfect sync.
I’m perceiving the distinct
connection of a psychic link.

You think you can win me
with some clever words?
This undue obsession
just makes your odds worse.
So dial down the drama,
you’re trying too hard,
or else I’ll be forced to
put up my guard.

She’s looking for someone
who’s living it big,
she wants a companion
who’s out of her league.
She’s not without options
and I’m on the ropes,
but she’s undecided,
so maybe there’s still hope.

Oh oh oh oh
Undecided…
Oh oh oh oh
Undecided…

Why is it bad to be intense?
Honest feelings are strong!
Why should I hide
behind pretense,
when I’m doing no wrong?
Why do we play these
pointless games?
I just want to be true.
Why don’t you give me
one more chance
to prove myself to you?

[Chorus]

Oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh

Undecided

I am a graphic designer by trade
and a musician at heart.
All original lyrics and music concepts
were written and designed by me.
The production of the music
was realized using the Suno AI platform.
As a premium subscriber,
I retain all commercial and
intellectual rights to this work.

Undecided

The Immaculate Glitch

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