Fame Game
10 songs, 39 minutes
Busted decks, spinning tape, voices stitched from static and scrape.
Lights flicker—no savior’s stage, only hands rough with another day’s wage.
Crowns flicker on hollow heads. Kingdoms crumble in broken cassettes.
Masks crack, basslines split, truth bleeds raw through diamond grit.
Ain’t love they sell you—it’s hunger, dressed: a fist in silk, a mouth hard-pressed.
Armor rattles as history leaks. Every bright thing costs more than it speaks.
Run it back. Let it scar.
No medals here, no easy bars.
Just hunger, static, broken rhymes—held together by survival’s spine.
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