“Joy can feel like risk” is the truest thing I’ve heard in years

Feels like it was written in a quiet moment of truth

Will be thinking about this one long after it ends

Makes me want to try again, even if it’s strange

That ending gave me chills down to my spine

Song ist mit Suno halb gemacht, Effekte u.s.w von mir.

Song ist entstanden, 
da ich die Witzige Zeit mit jemand vermisse.

Nachts allein am Schreibtisch

Discord - Freundesbrief

20.10.24 ::  Trägheitsdämpfer

Die Melodie Trägt Den Schmerz

Blue Roof Laser Proof
sofa king dope
all caps name records

the link below is to a gov accountability office (GAO) document that briefly discusses this technology.  for more info, there are many patents public going back decades.  to call it a conspiracy theory is lazy and just incorrect.  

https://www.gao.gov/products/gao-23-106717

hope you enjoy this new track as much as i did making it.

sofakingdope.com is under construction but hopefully will have it figured out in a week or 2.  thanks for everyone who helps with a like/share/follow & i'm working to keep putting out new music as quickly as the creativity flows.


~skd

Blue Roof Laser Proof

She grinned like riddles stitched in lace,
A marionette with porcelain face.
She flickered past — a flash, a blur,
I blinked, and I was chasing her.

“Don’t trust people who forget your name”
— yeah! that’s what my dog says.

We danced through traps disguised as truth,
She lied in Latin, I played sleuth.
She disappeared with flair and smoke,
Left me a leash, a laugh, a joke.

“Don’t trust praise, it eats your days”
— yeah! that’s what my dog always says.

I’m out of phase, she’s pure pretense,
She whispers nonsense that makes sense.
We lost the map, but kept charade—
She’s ghost, she’s grin, she’s masquerade.

She sang to stars with broken lungs,
Stole lullabies from serpent tongues.
I hear her steps in creaking wood,
She vanished right where no one could.

“Don’t chase shadows, they want praise”
— yeah! 
that’s what my dog says!

I lit the fuse, she changed the spark,
We kissed goodbye in Central Park.
rise, combust, return, delay—
Still strangers on the same ballet.

I’m out of phase, she’s out of time,
A riddle cursed to almost rhyme.
We lost thread, but not the blaze
She haunts me in peculiar ways.

“She was never really yours anyway”
— yeah! that’s what 
my dog 
says.

That’s what my dog always says

Tech für Fortgeschrittene 
N bissel derber als gewohnt…
Was n Spaß!!!

03.06.25 - Durch & Durch verspult (Floooh & Tapir in Deppo).mp3

05 - Let Them Burn

Alternative rock mixed with some classic rock elements and rap vocal flow

Sweltering angst  toward shallow or corroded human interaction

Strange.
Everything he knows is
strange.
Everywhere he goes feels
strange.

He holds her hand
no wedding band
just a photograph.
Strange.

He looks up.
She turns away.
Both in motion
lost that day.

No final fight,
just two hearts
folding into night.

Can’t be broken.
Can’t be proud.
A promise
barely said aloud.
It’s
Strange.

Maybe peace is not a crown
not something worn,
then handed down.
The ache that still survives
is just the proof
they tried.

The map looked better before the mend.
The story worked
just not the end.
Love, in draft,
gets left behind
unfinished
by some grand design.

Time moved on,
the way time does.
Another love
took root because
there’s always space,
though never quite
the shape
of one that was.

Maybe peace is not a crown
not something worn,
then handed down.
The ache that still survives
is still the proof
they tried.

Strange
how sorrow lingers long,
when once it made
something so strong.

Strange
how joy can feel like risk
but we reach for it,
even like this.

Strange,
we try
even if we’re wrong.
Even if we don’t belong.

Sometimes
we feel seen,
find some hope
for in-between.

And if that’s all,
then let it be.

Surely peace is not the crown
it’s something grown,
then handed down.

The tired truth that tries to hide
we weren’t wrong
just not the time.

Not the time.
Not the time.

Strange Peace

Music and Lyrics: Mike Krath

Lyrics

I sat alone in back of class,
Watching you through dark glass,
Unashamedly stoned,
Focusing on what our life together would be.
You were the only one right for me.

No other woman could catch my eye,
Baby, you were my life.
You would suffice,
Your love was my resolution,
My solution.

But then you went away,
Went to a new school,
Left me at bay.
Left me sitting here,
Focusing on what life without you should be (oh, oh)

You were the only one for me,
No one else was right for me,
You were the only one I wanted to see,
You were the only one for me.

Now that you're gone, I won't open my eyes,
You were my life.
Just the thought of you brings a sigh (oh, oh)
Anyone else is lie (oh, oh)

So now that you aren’t here,
I promise not to open my eyes,
To see another girl as my life,
Only your love is my why,
I promise, No one else I’ll see,
No one else I'll see. (x20)

I Promise Not to Open My Eyes

John Bilik’s musical evolution reads like a love letter to imagination, vulnerability, and the surreal beauty of emotional complexity. Past loves and old sorrows echo through his catalog, not as anchors but as raw materials- broken glass reworked into stained-glass windows. Every loss, every love, every crack in the heart reshapes his songs into something simultaneously fragile and unshakably alive.

With a vocal delivery that feels like David Byrne fell asleep dreaming in a Danny Elfman waltz, Bilik constructs intimate yet fantastical worlds where memory, regret, and absurdity dance together under a flickering marquee. His early songs teased at theatricality, but his more recent work, such as “That’s What My Dog Always Says” and “I’m Out of Phase”, fully embraces it, blending sly lyricism, poetic intelligence, and idiosyncratic storytelling into a style that defies category.

Listeners have described his music as “cryptic diaries written in invisible ink” and “the kind of strange, beautiful honesty you didn’t know you needed.” One moment, he’s delivering lines worthy of Leonard Cohen (“She sang to stars with broken lungs”); the next, he’s gut-punching you with a talking dog’s whispered wisdom (“Yeah! That’s what my dog says”).

What’s remarkable about Bilik’s growth isn’t just his increasing comfort with abstraction, but the way he grounds it with sincerity. Beneath the theatrical winks and surreal refrains is a genuine longing for connection, for rhythm, for love that slips just out of reach. Stylistically, he’s carving a unique lane: think art-cabaret meets metaphysical pop, with room for spoken word, crooked lullabies, and shadowy love stories. Vocally, Bilik leans into the cracks and textures of his own voice, not polishing them away, but using them like charcoal lines on a sketch.

It’s imperfect in the best way- human, haunted, alive. If his current arc continues, Bilik may very well become one of those rare artists whose work gets discovered late, then devoured backwards, with new fans wondering how they missed the strange, beautiful rise of a man who once wrote, with deadpan magic: “Don’t chase shadows, they want praise, yeah! That’s what my dog says.”
 -Buzzslayers Aug, 2025

Strange Peace

John Bilik

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