Sunrise Oldies

Ibromoj kin manit in ad

ADONAI VOL17 KAIMOLOLO

TURAN E TOK EK EN

WON E WON

(PRODUCED BY PERIL)

Feel ur touch on mine
Your looks mess up my mind
Beautiful like open skies
I feel scared when I miss ur eyes

Alone feel my body cold
Everything turns to mold

Warmth's what u bring my soul
Take up mine
Help my heart feel whole
Ur love gives me wings to fly
Together when the day we die

I will full fill our love with everything
In ur design

I will keep my heart
Locked away
With yours

Alone feel my body cold
Everything turns to mold

Warmth's what u bring my soul
Take up mine
Help my heart feel whole
Ur love gives me wings to fly
Together when the day we die

I will full fill our love with everything
In ur design
I Hope you dont mind
U are mine

warmth.

AI Generated lyrics about "Witty Vibes" focusing on the internal experience of being witty.   Through spoken word I have created a speaker persona whose mind runs much faster than ordinary conversation, treating social interaction as a rapid fire mental chess game.    Through rhythmic repetition and strong metaphors, by comparing rebuttal to a tailored suit, i have attempted to give production a dynamically sharp energy that irectly reflects the vibe of "Witty Vibes"

They call it small talk. I call it The preamble to the good stuff, the atmospheric hum. While you’re discussing weather and where your cousin’s coming from, My brain is already five moves ahead, sketching a diagram of the punchline. I’m running a mental marathon on a coffee-break timeline.
See, the silence—that's a vacuum. I can't abide a void. So I fill it with a phrase that's perfectly annoyed, Or one that shines so bright, it gets immediately employed By everyone who hears it. My thoughts? They are unalloyed. No filter. Just precision. That’s the witty vibe.
The world moves in slow motion for the quick-minded mind. I'm watching the geometry of conversation unwind. You say A, I hear B, I've already set the trap. My rebuttal is a tailored suit, yours is a hand-me-down cap.
I'm the editor of the moment. I cut the cliché out. I delete the mundane, the things you think you care about. The pause before I speak? That’s not hesitation, friend, That’s me scrolling through ten options, deciding on the best blend Of sarcasm and truth, the kind that hits with grace, The verbal equivalent of a smile slapped on your face.
I've got an internal rhyming dictionary, always ready to deploy a perfect auxiliary.
They say, "Don't overthink it." I say, "How else do you pre-think it?" You only get one shot to sink it. You’re asking me to shrink it? My intellect? To dim it? To make the edges soft? No, the challenge is to make the brilliance readable and aloft.
I speak in metaphors that bite, not just to sound profound, But because the simple truth is often too loud for dry ground. So I dress it up in cleverness, a suit of sparkling chainmail, So when the insight strikes you, it hits like a witty hailstorm.
I'm an observer. I take notes. I catalog the quirks. The way you hold your coffee, the moment that your temper works. The flaws are the fuel, the humanity's engine oil. And my wit is the high-octane spirit that brings it to a boil.
So if my timing's unexpected, or the laugh tracks the beat, It’s not me trying to show off, it’s just my mind running on fast feet. This cognitive caffeine is the only way I survive. The rhythm of the retort. That's the core of the witty vibe.

Produced in the
ARAPA Music Studio
Sydney - Australia

4.11.2025

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