🖤 Lyrics I Lived First
These songs started in my nervous system.
The ache. The silence. The part that braced. The scream no one translated.
I lived every lyric first.
Then I use Suno AI to give them a voice and instruments.
I don’t sing the songs myself. I write them. I survive them. I finish them.
What you hear is sorcery for closet songwriters: words stitched into sound.
What you read is survival turned into music.
📀 My first full album lives on the GORGEOUS page.
This space is for all the single releases—the songs that keep coming.
🏚 The site is still under reconstruction.
Pages are shifting. Bones are showing. I’m gutting it as I go.
The homepage is music. Because it always was. Every other link? Just bones I left behind for those crawling back to their own body.
👇 Scroll for the songs.
Our Lady of the Lash – Lyrics
This song comes from the choke in my throat, the hush I inherited, the catechism of being small. Our Lady of the Lash is me breaking that gag. I drag the rake through inherited hush, dig up the grief, and write scripture in scars. This is not obedience. This is resurrection. Rage is my gospel. Holiness isn’t hush—it’s survival that learned to roar.
Aftershock (Don't Turn Your Back On The Ocean) - Lyrics
Aftershock is a trauma spell dressed as a rap. It’s not about moving on—it’s about what the body remembers. The girl is your inner child. The wave is trauma. The crowd forgets. The ocean never does. I wrote this for the ones who still brace in silence, still flinch in peace. This is the sound of memory surfacing. The moment the calm lied. The scream stored in the spine. Don’t turn your back on the ocean. She keeps what the world buries.
WHAT’S YOUR MARK? (The Ghost)
What’s Your Mark? is a mirror-song for the ones who smiled through survival. It’s about the bite behind “be good,” the flinch behind “be nice.” Every verse speaks the ghost you became to be kept. You weren’t born ashamed—you were trained. This is the body’s record. The rage beneath the praise. The addiction born from silence. You didn’t vanish. You adapted. Now the mark is glowing. And the mirror is calling you home.
Crow - Lyrics
This one isn’t a song. It’s a spell. I wrote it for every part of me that never got the funeral, never got the scream. Crow is the witness. The mirror. The scream in sky-shape. She remembers what the world tried to forget. I gave her my ache. She gave it wings. If you’ve ever swallowed your truth to keep the peace—she’s circling for you.
I Can’t Make You Happy - Lyrics
This one ripped itself out of me. It’s the truth I swallowed for years. I wrote this inside the guilt—while it still had claws in my throat. It names the lie of being “nice.” Of being liked for staying silent. It’s not about blame—it’s about reclamation. I can’t make them happy. I was never meant to. I’m with me now.
I AM ALFIE (THE BLACK PIG INSIDE) – Lyrics
A stuffed pig named Alfie once offered comfort. Now she returns as black flame, bent-eared and unashamed. This is the lyric blog for I Am Alfie (The Black Pig Inside)—a ritual of hunger reclaimed, rage remembered, and softness reborn in mud. Shame becomes drumbeat. Craving becomes law. The girl who danced in secret doesn’t ask anymore. She stomps. She wants. She stays.
Sorry Was a Spell (Bury the Ghost)
This piece cracks open the word “sorry” and lays its ghost to rest. It follows a moment between strangers—a girl at a train station and the version of myself that met her gaze and remembered. The blog carries a full-body ritual, a breakdown of how “sorry” implants itself in our voice, and a vow to speak louder anyway. This is about shedding shame and taking up air.
I Cast Right – Lyrics
This song meets the ache of shrinking to please, of softening your signal to survive. It’s for the ones exhausted by output, haunted by silence, scrolling for resonance and finding noise. It speaks to the ones who perform for comfort and fracture under the weight of trying to be palatable. It’s the burn of invisibility in a world too quick to scroll.
I AM THE FURNACE – Lyrics
I wrote “I Am the Furnace” because I got tired of swallowing my rage. This isn’t a song—it’s a reckoning. I’m holding the heat for every silenced kid, every woman who bit her tongue, every scream that got misnamed as crazy. This blog is a body-map back to your fire—lyrics, ritual, and the truth about what rage really is when you stop pretending it’s bad.
BECAUSE I SAID SO – Lyrics
This song is my reckoning. BECAUSE I SAID SO came from the gap between how I was showing up and who I wanted to be. It’s the sound of me catching myself mid-script, mid-yell, mid-trigger—and choosing something different. I didn’t write this from theory—I wrote it from the floor, holding the weight of my own voice.
INTEGRITY CHECK (Before I Scroll) – Lyrics
This is a body-level oath disguised as a song. INTEGRITY CHECK isn’t about performance—it’s a sacred pause before your nervous system reenacts the old flinch. Written by a military-trained mind with a prophet’s heart, it teaches you to scan your breath instead of the feed. This blog breaks down the lyrics, the ritual, and the real meaning of integrity—when no one’s watching but your mirror.
FUNERAL SELFIE – Post the Grief. Bury the Ghost.
This blog reveals the grief ritual behind FUNERAL SELFIE, a scream with eyeliner and dirt in her teeth. It breaks down what “cringe” really is—a flinch, a body-based shame pattern, and a ghost that feeds on silence. With lyrics, body-spell ritual, and affirmation, this piece invites you to rake the shame, name the pain, and post the proof. You’ll leave with dirt under your nails and your voice intact.
I’m Gonna Get My Stick - Lyrics
This is a love song for the fathers who didn’t know how to cry.
A rhythm born from silence, survival, and the weight of lineage.
The stick becomes a symbol of what shaped us—then a ritual tool for what frees us.
Through stomp, chant, and verse, I dance the grief they never could.
Every beat is a vow to move what stayed locked in their bones.
WHERE ARE THE MOTHERS – Lyrics
This blog holds the spell of a mother who chooses not to pass it down. I wrote it in the aftermath of a hard moment, with breath still shaking in my ribs. These lyrics track the pattern of rage, restraint, and repair—the sacred loop of staying present in fire without becoming it. I offer this for anyone who has ever stormed, returned, and chosen love with mud still on their boots.
I AM THE RAKE – Lyrics
This is what I wrote instead of screaming.
The rake moved what my mouth couldn’t say.
It dug through the grief I didn’t name—but still felt, still carried, still almost passed on.
It’s a rhythm for the ones who inherited the storm and chose to break the cycle with their body.
Not against the ones who came before—but for them.
For the love that was buried beneath duty.
For the softness that never got spoken.
I swing to clear space for that.
This is how I till the field and return with love.
The Cross + The Pentagram: You Are the Spell – Lyrics
This blog opens the ritual body of The Cross + Pentagram, a somatic alt-rap track that reclaims two sacred symbols from fear and misuse. It teaches the body how to mark itself holy using breath, chant, and touch—turning trauma into shield, and memory into flame. This is a nervous system anthem disguised as a rap song. It’s a map back to your altar—yourself.
✦ THE ONLY WAY OUT IS THROUGH ✦ – Lyrics
This is the birth story of our son—and of every truth born through pain. It’s blood, breath, and the kind of scream that cracks the ceiling. It’s about staying present when the world goes primal. Whether you’re birthing a child, a self, a truth, or a timeline, this is the anthem for that threshold.
COME | BE | YOU — A Tantrum Gospel for the Loud Ones - Lyrics
COME | BE | YOU is a war cry for the kids who were told to sit still and shut up. It’s a lyrical gospel for the weirdos, the rage-born, the ones who survived by getting loud. This blog unpacks the fire beneath the noise, the sacred scream that saves lives, and the rite of reclaiming your uncaged voice. The song is both a spell and a sermon—an anthem for those ready to make their chaos holy.
🔥 THE FIRE NEVER SLEPT – Lyrics
This blog is a body spell disguised as a song breakdown.
It tells the truth about suppressed rage, sacred pain, and how pretending you're fine makes your body scream louder.
I wrote this track from the heat of chronic tension, back pain, and the quiet sickness of saying yes too long.
This isn't a meltdown—it's a remembering.
If you’ve ever swallowed your fire to stay safe, this is your permission to erupt on purpose.
SOCIAL SICKNESS – Lyrics
This blog unpacks the lyrics to “Social Sickness,” a truth-spell disguised as a song. It explores what happens when your body says no before you do—through sore throats, gut pain, fatigue, and post-event crashes. Drawing from somatic wisdom and real-life experience, it turns shame into signal and illness into insight. Readers will learn how to decode their own body’s no, cancel with power, and reclaim their sacred boundaries.