MUXIBOSH - Desolate Original Mix

Desolate.
The streets are completely empty
And the neon is dead.
I'm walking through the echoes of the words that you said.
The music that they sent to me
Like a ghost in the wind, but
They are singing solid with the
Structures up in no particular
Destination for a moment of
Noise.
I'm standing in the choir with
The master lead boys.
The window was a ruin that was set in bed,
But left us in
A sudden clarity inside of the air.
I don't require the numbers just to feel
That you exist.
Never getting safely through the smoke
And the mist.
The sub bass is a rumble
In the desolate street.
A heavy confirmation—what the elements mean.
What's one survivor under the
Black skies?
Watching how the city just
Died.
If they try to ask you how I'm standing
In the zone,
Tell them I'm a kingdom
That can conquer alone.
Desolate.
But the project is strong.
This is the frequency
Where the rebels belong.
Desolate.
Let the melody
Ride.
Keep the heavy energy locked
Deep inside.
Desolate.
The filter cords open up a permanent
Door while lucid thoughts settle right
Up to the floor.
No temporary
Fashion can knock on my stride.
I'm letting the rhythm and the gravity guide
A solitary mind with the time and
Design.
Refusing to follow the
Industrial line.
The copycats
Hurry for their second of fame,
But lose
All their focus when they finish the
Game.
I balance the pressure by thinking
Of the sound.
My weight is so heavy,
Just so deep in the ground.
The sub bass is steady and causes my control
To protect me in the sacred labyrinth inside
Of my soul.
No regular emotion can
Capture the space I'm building—
A boundary they cannot erase.
If they ever wonder how bad it's a vibe,
Tell them the independent heavy will
Thrive.
Desolate.
But the project is strong.
This is the frequency
Where the rebels belong.
Desolate.
Let the melody ride.
Keep the heavy energy locked
Deep inside.
Desolate.
The ink on the paper is solid and clean.
The calm of the perfect day I've never
Yet seen.
The whispers of cynics just
Turn in the dust.
I stop
Following the deliberate alarm,
And I
Trust the independent frequency—global
In the song.
Carving my signature so
Deep in the stone.
The pattern of
Shadows is starting to break.
I
Wake to the beautiful choices I make.
I abide on the frequency, filtered
In deep notes.
Temporary secrets are
Easy to keep.
The concrete is shaking.
The drums disappear,
But inside
My spirit the message is clear.
No
Short-sided emotion can alter my day.
I'm pushing the cheap imitations away.
If they try to ask how I reached to the
Sky,
Tell them my boots were too
Heavy to fly.
Desolate.
But the project is strong.
This is the frequency
Where the rebels belong.
Desolate.
Let the melody ride.
Keep the heavy energy locked
Deep inside.
Desolate.
The filter cords open up a permanent
Door while lucid settles right
Up to the floor.
No temporary fashion
Can alter my stride.
I'm letting
The rhythm and the gravity guide us all
The way to my mind—with the time and
Design,
Refusing to follow their
Industrial line.
The copycats
Hurry for a second of fame,
But lose all
Their focus when they finish the
Game.
I balance the pressure by anchoring
The sound.
I build it so heavy, so deep
In the ground.
The sub bass is steady
And guards my control—perfect
In the center where they reside
In my soul.
No regular motion can capture the
Space.
I'm building a boundary they
Cannot erase.
If they ever wonder how
Bad I survived,
Tell them the independent heavy will
Thrive.
But the project is strong.
Where the rebels belong.
Let the melody ride.
Deep inside.
The ink on the paper is solid
And clean.
The calmest perspective they
Have ever yet seen.
The whispers of
Signatures turn to dust.
I
Follow the deliberate alignment,
And trust the independent frequency—global
Sound.
Carving my signature so deep in
The stone.
The patterns and shadows are
Starting to break away—
To the beautiful choices I make.
I abide on the frequency, filtered
In deep notes.
Temporary secrets are
Easy to keep.
The concrete is shaking
And the drums disappear,
But inside
My spirit the message is clear.
No short-sighted motion
Can alter my day.
I'm pushing to
Keep limitations
Away.
If they try to ask how I reach for
The sky,
Tell them my boots were too
Heavy to fly.
Ah, ah.
Desolate.
But the project's strong.
This is the frequency.
Where the rebels belong.
Desolate.
Let the melody ride.
Keep the heavy energy locked
Deep inside.
Desolate.
Desolate.