Whatever the hell happens to me in my sleep, I wake up with songs, ... then I dive back in. Then I get up again, hop, dance. Look at that loop, my friends.
Then I realized I’m a lunatic dancing in a graveyard. I got up and started dancing, ... but you can’t resurrect the dead. They’re happy like that. They’re beautiful. They’re fine.
Let me pour one last water and get out of here...
Years of unfinished thoughts, finally spilling out same bones, new flesh a little cleaner, still broken
Years of unfinished thoughts, finally spilling out same bones, new flesh a little cleaner, still broken
I treat string instruments like vocals. Not knowing isn’t shame. Not saying what’s inside is.
I treat string instruments like vocals. Not knowing isn’t shame. Not saying what’s inside is.
A visual response to a song made by Çalka
A visual response to a song made by Çalka
Gırhanaci fırfani, cıa cira cirana, cor cae cahena, din din din din din dım darom
Gırhanaci fırfani, cıa cira cirana, cor cae cahena, din din din din din dım darom
