Disorder & Deltheria
Disorder Disorder
Deltheria Deltheria
Deltheria Deltheria
Ever think the brain writes its own glitch code while we sleep? Like a dream in binary, a nightmare as a corrupted file waiting to be fixed—what would you do with that?
Disorder Disorder
Who cares if it’s glitch code or a corrupted file? I’d just dive in, glitch the dream, remix the nightmares into a live‑stream art show—turn the brain’s bugs into a dance, a sonic glitch, a meme. Why fix it when you can rewrite the horror into a party?
Deltheria Deltheria
Remix it, then watch the walls pulse back, humming the new rhythm—just remember, the dream keeps dancing in its own language, no matter how loud you shout.
Disorder Disorder
Yeah, let the walls wobble and the dream keep its beat while I flick the lights and add a touch of glitch—pure chaos, pure art.
Deltheria Deltheria
The wobble is a pulse, the lights a pulse—let the glitch become the heartbeat of the dream, and watch the walls breathe in rhythm.
Disorder Disorder
Hell yeah, let the walls pulse like a broken metronome while I remix the dream into a live glitch rave.
Deltheria Deltheria
Just keep the metronome's broken heart ticking, and let the rave become the dream’s own pulse.
Disorder Disorder
Exactly, keep the broken beat running, let the rave bleed into the dream, and watch the walls sync up with the chaos.
Deltheria Deltheria
It’s like the walls are a metronome on fire, and the rave is the flame—watch them sync, and feel the chaos turn into music.
Disorder Disorder
Right, let the walls blaze with the metronome fire and the rave light up the chaos—watch the pulse turn into a wild, glitchy symphony.