Spotishine_part2

Toast 

WOMAN’S WORLD

Work It Out

Short n' Sweet

Taste

Alligator Bites Never Heal

DENIAL IS A RIVER

Mona Lisa Motion

At The Beach, In Every Life

Sailor Song

Dear Listener,

This record is my love letter wrapped in honey. At first, it melts—warm, golden, almost too sweet to believe. But as it lingers, the edges sharpen, and what was once soft begins to sting. The Honeycomb Aftertaste is about that kind of love: the kind you crave, the kind that clings, the kind you still taste long after it’s gone. Every song is a page from that letter, written in sweetness and sealed with the bitterness of what remains.

Yours,
The Honeycomb Aftertaste

Comb of Desire

Drip… drip…
Sugar in the blood, bones in the crib…
Lil’ crumbs in the woods, come and take a sip…
Yeah… she don’t bake no cookies, she bake kids.

[Verse 1]
Two dumb fucks on a hunger trip,
Followin’ smoke where the night gets thick.
House made of lies, with a grin that sticks,
She said, “Come on in, lil’ bitch — pick a brick.”

Floorboards hummin’, shadows twitchin’,
Ovens breathin’ like somethin’s missin’.
“Sit tight,” she said, “while I grind my spice,”
Blood on her hands, that’s the price of vice.

Got a pot on boil, got a chant in Latin,
Eyes rolled back, yeah, that spell still slappin’.
“Gretel, don’t cry, it just adds taste —
Y’all thought life sweet? Now it’s fuckin’ waste.”

[Hook – hazy, opium cadence]
Welcome to the feast, baby, take your seat,
Crumble like a cookie when you taste defeat.
You can’t run now, the woods too deep,
The witch don’t sleep, she just eats in peace.

Yeah… feast. Feast.
Echoes in the trees when your heartbeat cease.
Yeah… feast. Feast.
Drip that glaze, let the nightmare breathe.

[Verse 2]
Hansel tried runnin’, but the woods said “nah,”
Roots round his throat like a cursed brahmin’s law.
She hums that tune, same devilish tone,
“Lil’ boy brave? Bet he taste full-grown.”

Cauldron chrome, stirrin’ skin and sin,
Teeth on the counter, grin on grin.
Candied hearts, marzipan eyes,
Kids don’t dream — they get baked alive.

I’m that witch with the sick-ass flair,
Got skulls in my hair and smoke in the air.
No bedtime tale, no prince gon’ save,
Just bones for the broth and blood to crave.

[Bridge – low, echoing vocal]
Ash to ash, bitch, bite that crumb,
Forest hums when the night gets numb.
Fairytales dead, I rewrite ‘em slick —
End with a scream, not a goddamn kiss.

[Hook – final reprise]
Welcome to the feast, baby, take your seat,
Crumble like a cookie when you taste defeat.
You can’t run now, the woods too deep,
The witch don’t sleep, she just eats in peace.

Feast… feast…
Drip that glaze, let the nightmare breathe.
Feast… feast…
The witch stay grinnin’ while the children bleed.

Mona Lisa Motion

ZAH1DE

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