ANKH TV

[Key: E minor | Tempo: 146 BPM | Tuning: Drop D | Feel: swaggering proto‑metal with garage grit]

[Vocal: female contralto, rich tone, minimal sibilance | Style: hard rock singer]

[Band: fuzz guitar L/R, bass rumble center, dry kit with heavy floor tom, room mics hot]
[Intro]

[Count‑in: four]

[Fuzz on | Kick and floor tom pound]

Riff rolls like a head‑on train, no brake, no chain.
[Verse 1]

I grind my heel on chalk lines of law and myth,

Torch in my palm, I warm a cold blacksmith.

Your velvet rope can’t bind a feral wind,

I chew the lock, I laugh, I kick it in.
[Pre‑Chorus]

No oath, no brand, no quiet iron ring—

I bend the rail, I make the church bell ring.
[Chorus]

You belong to the dead, not me,

Cold in a vault of pedigree.

I walk where the wild drums lead—

You belong to the dead, not me.
[Turn | Pick scrape | Drum fill]
[Verse 2]

Neon rot and alley bloom at night,

Amp glow red, we crown the dawn with light.

Gatekeepers yap at a phantom throne—

I drown that yap with a cyclone groan.
[Pre‑Chorus]

No chalk, no chain, no tidy little creed—

I burn a path the bold of heart can read.
[Chorus]

You belong to the dead, not me,

Pinned to a glass menagerie.

I ride that raw, unruly sea—

You belong to the dead, not me.
[Breakdown]

[Drop to bass and toms | Vocal near‑whisper, low]

Your marble hall, your faded crown,

Grave‑cold grip that drags you down.

[Kick builds]

My drum is warm, my lungs run free—

Grin in the fire, black‑lip glee.
[Bridge]

[Half‑time stomp | Gang claps]

I drink with the outlaw dawn,

I dance where the ban lives on.

If rulebooks crave a tomb,

I plant riffs in that room.
[Solo]

[Guitar: modal wail, bent notes, fuzz thick | Bass walks up, toms roll]
[Chorus]

You belong to the dead, not me,

Nailed to a pale litany.

I bloom where the live ones bleed—

You belong to the dead, not me.
[Tag Chorus | Call and Response]

[Call: Lead] Not me.

[Response: Gang] Not me.

[Call: Lead] Not me.

[Response: Gang] Not me.
[Outro]

[All in | Riff climbs | Vocal ad‑libs, low growl]

I keep that punk‑born liberty,

Love cuts deep, yet I run free.

[Hit: full band choke]

You belong to the dead—

[Feedback howl, then fade].

With You Belong to the Dead, the Love Becomes a Curse series leans hard into proto‑metal grit and garage‑rock nerve. It’s the sound of blown‑out amps and a basement ceiling sweating, where fuzzed riffs grind against floor‑tom thunder and a bass grows like a live wire. The concept centers on an eternal rebel spirit, scorning rulebooks and cherishing the loud refusal to fit, marrying doom‑hinted imagery to feral joy.

A rich contralto delivers the edge—low, wry, and iron‑toned—carving through feedback with a hard‑rock bark and a sly grin. The track frames its vow as an inversion: love as a hex, tradition as a mausoleum, liberation as the charge out the side door. It feels live‑to‑tape and proudly imperfect, a bridge from smoky underground rooms to modern pits, and a reminder that revolt isn’t a fad; it’s a lifetime habit played at full volume.