🫥🔥🔥👻

myfknplylst

Shackles

Rock

Slipknot - 'Till We Die

Skeletons

Paranoid (Crash & Burn)

Slipknot - Killpop

Slipknot - Nomadic

DEAD OR ALIVE

Produced by Mark Xenophontos 

Lyrics by Mark Xenophontos 

------------------------

Little honey bee
Cherry picked from the tree
Sweet and deadly
That's what you are
Poison hiding
Behind every scar

Tied up in surrender
Gazing up to heaven
Can't remember what I'm fighting for
What am I fighting for

Honey and daggers
That's all you are
Honey and daggers
Gone too far
Sweet lies and violence
Deep in my soul
Losing myself
Losing control

Blood is in the air
Secrets everywhere
Hidden truths beneath
Your perfect skin
Let the chaos begin
Let the chaos begin

Greater heights mean nothing
When you drag me down below
To a world I didn't want to know
What did I want to know

Honey and daggers
That's all you are
Honey and daggers
Gone too far
Sweet lies and violence
Deep in my soul
Losing myself
Losing control

Jezebel come whisper
Sing your poison song
I believed your promises
But I was wrong
I was wrong
I WAS WRONG!
EVERYTHING'S WRONG!

Honey and daggers
That's all we are
Honey and daggers
Gone too far
Sweet lies and violence
Burning my soul
Losing myself
OUT OF CONTROL!

Just a ghost in the night
Just a ghost in the night
Honey and daggers
Just a ghost in the night
Just a ghost in the night
Honey and daggers
Just a ghost

Honey & Daggers (Alt Version)

My Sweet Possession

About "Shadows of Silence"
Silence is a weapon. This is the sound of it backfiring.

"Shadows of Silence" was not written; it was forged out of necessity. It is a direct response to the creeping chill of censorship, the hypocrisy of a two-tiered media narrative, and the corporate-approved consensus that now masquerades as public opinion. This track is a line in the sand against the digital book burning and the slow, quiet erasure of inconvenient truths.

The song tells two stories, not as isolated incidents, but as archetypes of our time. First, the truth-teller silenced by the mob and their corporate enablers ("In Charlie Kirk's Name"). Second, the forgotten victim whose tragedy doesn't fit the preferred narrative (Iryna's story). These are the shadows—the censored voices and the ignored lives that the establishment wishes you would forget.

We didn't need a ballad; we needed a battering ram. The sonic architecture of the track—a furious, syncopated fusion of hard rock and alternative metal—is intentional. It’s the sound of frustration given a voice, of apathy being burned away by raw, defiant energy. The tension in the verses mirrors the simmering anger of the unheard, and the explosive, anthemic chorus is the cathartic release we are all denied.

This track is a rallying cry for the politically homeless, the silenced majority, and anyone with a moral compass that still points true. It’s a challenge to the gatekeepers and a reminder that truth doesn't need permission to be spoken.

Play it loud. The shadows hate the light.

(Verse 1)
In the land of the free, where voices once rang, 
They silenced a man with a bullet's cruel bang. 
Charlie Kirk spoke truth, but the mob cheered his fall, 
Indoctrinated hearts, no mercy at all. 
Like Rome's leaden plates poisoning minds from within, 
They celebrate death when opinions don't win. 
Amazon's gatekeepers axed the track, 
"In Charlie Kirk's Name"—called it wack!. 
Free speech on the pyre, burned by corporate might, 
While the powerful hide in the dead of the night.

(Chorus) 
Wake up from the circus, the bread's turning stale, 
Megacorps are feasting while our freedoms fail. 
A.I. steals the jobs, leaves us footing the bill, 
But we'll band together, shine light on the hill. 
No more apathy, no more turning away.
Release the Epstein list, bring back the day. 
From riots unspoken to voices suppressed, 
It's time to fight back, put decency to the test.

(Verse 2) 
Iryna fled war, sought safety ashore, 
But on a Charlotte train, fate closed the door. 
Stabbed in the shadows, no help from the crowd, 
She collapsed all alone, her cries not allowed. 
Where are the riots, the headlines that scream? 
For George Floyd they burned, but for her, just a dream. 
If races were flipped, the MSM would ignite, 
But white refugee blood fades out of sight. 
Peaceful protests whisper, ignored by the press, 
While lockdowns and layoffs sparked the hot mess.

(Bridge) 
It's not about money, we've got truth on our side, 
Respect and decorum, let justice be our guide. 
Corrupt politicians, hiding in plain view, 
Get 'em out of office, start something new. 
From Epstein's dark web to the A.I. machine, 
Raping the land, turning hope to a screen. 
We're in the empire's twilight, dry as a bone, 
But united we'll rise, no longer alone.

(Chorus)
Wake up from the circus, the bread's turning stale, 
Megacorps are feasting while our freedoms fail. 
A.I. steals the jobs, leaves us footing the bill, 
But we'll band together, shine light on the hill. 
No more apathy, no more turning away— 
Release the Epstein list, bring back the day. 
From riots unspoken to voices suppressed, 
It's time to fight back, put decency to the test.

(Outro) 
So here's to the fallen, Charlie and Iryna's light, 
We'll sing through the censorship, into the fight. 
No more killing dissent, no more biased divide—
Get off the couch, let the moral compass guide.

(End )



Shadows of Silence

Buy on Bandcamp

Latest Rock Compilation from the Australian team PulseMeld.

Zero Limits

Lyrics 

Locked inside… no key, no door…
I am the prison, I am the war.


Four walls in my head, I can’t escape
Every thought is a chain that I helped create
The guard is watching, but it’s me I see
I’m the lock, I’m the cage, I’m my own enemy
Breathing in static, choking on lies
Every word echoes, but silence never dies
I built this cell, brick by brick
And I hold the whip that makes the clock tick


No bars of steel, no chains of stone
The prison lives in my mind alone


I am the warden of myself
Keeper of the keys to a living hell
I wear the shackles, I guard the gate
Forever bound to my own fate


Every scream ricochets inside my skull
Every shadow I see makes the silence full
No escape, no savior, no outside call
I’m the rise, I’m the fall, I’m the writing on the wall
Feed the fear, I play both sides
The captive cries and the warden hides
I hold the torch, I light the cell
I keep myself locked in this hell


No bars of steel, no chains of stone
The prison lives in my mind alone


I am the warden of myself
Keeper of the keys to a living hell
I wear the shackles, I guard the gate
Forever bound to my own fate


The door is closed…
The key is mine…
I guard the prisoner…
Till the end of time.


Break the chains, but the chains are me
I hold the lock, I hold the key
No salvation, no one else
I am the warden of myself!


I am the warden of myself
Keeper of the keys to a living hell
I wear the shackles, I guard the gate
Forever bound to my own fate


Locked inside… no key, no door…
I am the prison, forever more.

Warden of Myself - REMASTERED - HD

Social Suicide

ODIN

Until I Depart

A Burnt Out Memory

I'M SORRY

The Sickness

Want

Tears Dont Fall - Bullet For My Valentine

Snuff - Slipknot

REDFIELD 108: HIS STATUE FALLS – Polar 

BUY 
Amazon http://geni.us/HSFPolarAmazonCD
iTunes http://geni.us/HSFPolariTunes

LINKS 
http://www.hisstatuefalls.com 
http://www.facebook.com/hisstatuefalls
http://www.instagram.com/hisstatuefallsmusic 
http://www.twitter.com/hisstatuefalls 

http://www.redfield-records.com
http://www.facebook.com/redfieldrecords

Polar

Buy on Amazon

HIS STATUE FALLS - FTW

Medication (feat. Shim)

Mark Czopek Unrelinquished is more than a band—it is survival carved into sound. Born from the ashes of unbearable loss, betrayal, and trauma, Mark Czopek embodies the refusal to let go of truth, memory, and identity. Fronted by songwriter and vocalist Mark, the project channels grief, rage, and love into a raw fusion of griefcore, metalcore, and myth-inspired storytelling.
Every song is an exorcism of pain: the death of Mark’s twin brother, the scars of adoption, the weight of abandonment, the chaos of addiction, and the haunting guilt of survival. Yet threaded through the heaviness is resilience—a voice that refuses silence, a fire that will not die, a phoenix that keeps rising even when its wings are scorched.
Mark Czopek is not polished for the mainstream. It is brutal honesty. It is myth and memory colliding. It is grief made eternal through music. This is not just art—it is a declaration: I will not be relinquished.