A searing Act I I where dawn becomes a rival and the sun a thief, Jealous of the Morning Sun wields E‑minor gallops, organ and choir to score a bass voiced lament. Night keeps the secret; daylight steals it, as the narrator admits, “ I lose you twice,” and resigns to a world he cannot enter.
A rebel anti anthem where comfort becomes a velvet shackle, this proto metal/garage rocker turns screens and paperwork into symbols of soft control, climbing from cynical unease to a defiant vow that you will never own the flame, all amid fuzz, grit, and a ringing coda.
A neon soaked panopticon anthem where chains, stains, and borrowed light frame a fight for opacity. Fuzzed proto metal and a rich contralto drive an arc from surveillance dread to collective defiance the city watches back, but the sparks refuse to die.
A blistering proto‑metal broadside where ignored warnings become policy. Fuzz soaked riffs, a commanding contralto lead, and vivid imagery of datafication and “electric prayer” drive an arc from dread to defiance—asking who owns the eyes, the records, and the truth.
A fuzzed proto‑metal broadside where warnings harden into laws, this lyric sheet tracks our drift from convenience to control and from sleep to defiance. The refrain turns the present into a rallying cry, ending with a communal ignition become the gasoline.
