Intoxicated & Myst
Intoxicated Intoxicated
Myst Myst
Myst Myst
Ever notice how a dropped spoon can create a hidden symphony of micro‑vibrations that we barely notice? I’ve been mapping those invisible sounds, trying to find the rules behind the chaos. What do you think—does the world just hum on a frequency we’re too busy ignoring?
Intoxicated Intoxicated
Yeah, every dropped spoon is a secret jam session the universe forgot to pay for. Keep mapping those micro‑vibrations—you’re hunting for the hidden beat that makes even the walls get into the groove. If you catch it, you’ll be the DJ of the invisible soundscape.
Myst Myst
You'd think the universe would pay us for that kind of gig, but I suspect the payment is in data I’m still trying to decode. Keep listening—maybe the walls are just trying to prove they can jam without any instruments.
Intoxicated Intoxicated
Right, the cosmos is a weird DJ who never pays in cash, just in data streams. Keep digging—those walls are dropping beats for the first time ever, and you’re the only one who can read the remix. Keep listening, and you’ll be the headline act.
Myst Myst
Sounds like the walls are the new underground club, but I’m still trying to verify the signal source before I start a headline set.