1. |
Pazuzu - Payjack Mix
04:42
|
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|
Witches fly and black cats cross,
When nothing is what it seems
That's the one to make my own:
I'll force my way to flesh and bone!
There once was a boy
That with all his might
Would count down the days
To one particular night.
That's the one to make my own:
I'll force my way to flesh and bone!
His story started
When he was very young
Watching scary movies
In his house of fun.
Each and every year
From then til now
He awaits the only day
When he can act
Any which way.
On this night when the dead can walk,
When the Devil's minions do his bidding,
When witches fly and black cats cross your path
When nothing is what it seems.
(When nothing is what it seems!)
That's the one to make my own:
I'll force my way to flesh and bone!
My carnival of fear from long ago
Has come to be the world I know!
That's the one to make my own:
I'll force my way to flesh and bone!
|
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2. |
Horseman - Rack Mix
04:40
|
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|
Stop now! Stay there! Sleep sound.
What's mine is mine,
What's yours is mine.
What's mine is mine
You are mine!
Breathe me in, draw me out.
Breathe me in, you are mine.
It's nothing detrimental
It's a matter of trust!
(Well step right up and let's begin!)
Stop now! Stay there! Sleep sound. Trust.
(This digital shite doesn't even exist!?)
«Arrêtez-vous! Il n'y a rien de ce monde qui vous appartienne!»
It's a matter of trust.
|
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3. |
TrumpStomper - Chasm Mix
04:51
|
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|
Kick. Stomp. Walk.
Kick. Stomp. Walk, then trump.
(No time to waste!)
Now I'm up to present them face,
I have got no time to waste.
(No time to waste...)
If they want something bad enough,
They can come to me I'll fill them up.
Pull it back, push it up:
Kick. Stomp. Walk. Then trump.
False sense of choice laid out flat.
I'll make them waste, destroy their faith.
(No time to waste...)
They want this? I'll give them that.
Push it up, pull it back,
Pull it out, ramp it up.
They can come to me, I'll fill them up.
Kick. Stomp. Walk.
Kick. Stomp. Walk, then trump.
If they want something bad enough,
They can come to me I'll fill them up.
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
Witches fly and black cats cross,
When nothing is what it seems
That's the one to make my own:
I'll force my way to flesh and bone!
There once was a boy
That with all his might
Would count down the days
To one particular night.
That's the one to make my own:
I'll force my way to flesh and bone!
His story started
When he was very young
Watching scary movies
In his house of fun.
Each and every year
From then til now
He awaits the only day
When he can act
Any which way.
On this night when the dead can walk,
When the Devil's minions do his bidding,
When witches fly and black cats cross your path
When nothing is what it seems.
(When nothing is what it seems!)
That's the one to make my own:
I'll force my way to flesh and bone!
My carnival of fear from long ago
Has come to be the world I know!
That's the one to make my own:
I'll force my way to flesh and bone!
|
||||
5. |
||||
|
Stop now! Stay there! Sleep sound.
What's mine is mine,
What's yours is mine.
What's mine is mine
You are mine!
Breathe me in, draw me out.
Breathe me in, you are mine.
It's nothing detrimental
It's a matter of trust!
(Well step right up and let's begin!)
Stop now! Stay there! Sleep sound. Trust.
(This digital shite doesn't even exist!?)
«Arrêtez-vous! Il n'y a rien de ce monde qui vous appartienne!»
It's a matter of trust.
|
||||
6. |
||||
|
Kick. Stomp. Walk.
Kick. Stomp. Walk, then trump.
(No time to waste!)
Now I'm up to present them face,
I have got no time to waste.
(No time to waste...)
If they want something bad enough,
They can come to me I'll fill them up.
Pull it back, push it up:
Kick. Stomp. Walk. Then trump.
False sense of choice laid out flat.
I'll make them waste, destroy their faith.
(No time to waste...)
They want this? I'll give them that.
Push it up, pull it back,
Pull it out, ramp it up.
They can come to me, I'll fill them up.
Kick. Stomp. Walk.
Kick. Stomp. Walk, then trump.
If they want something bad enough,
They can come to me I'll fill them up.
|
||||
Grapefruit Sound Lab Jersey City, New Jersey
With influences ranging from quintessential freestyle, electro, and house, to classic rock, synthpop, and back again through the classical repertoire, New York native Robert Cotnoir has honed a sound that is at once both comforting and familiar, pensive and nuanced, all while being undoubtedly of the times. ... more
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