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„audiophile“ is my personal confession, a love letter, a hymn to my lifelong addiction to listening, collecting, and worshipping vinyl records. it’s about the ritual that never grows old: sliding a record from its sleeve, feeling its weight, hearing that first faint hiss before the sound blooms. it celebrates all of the sonic ceremony. every line treats the record like a living body, fragile yet eternal, where warmth and imperfection become faith.
the song turns that obsession into devotion. every groove, every imperfection becomes sacred. I’ve always been drawn to the warmth, the touch, the permanence of vinyl — to the idea that music should be something you hold, not just stream and forget. „audiophile“ is my ode to that faith. it’s not nostalgia. it’s reverence. a love song to the crackle, the weight, and the spin that still makes my world turn. check it out now.

„the sandman“ reimagines the harmless figure from childhood tales as an enforcer of obedience. the song turns the myth on its head: here, the sandman isn’t a gentle bringer of dreams but a punisher of defiance, forcing sleep upon those who dare to stay awake. inspired by the darker roots of e.t.a. hoffmann’s version, the lyrics explore how control often hides behind comfort — how societies lull their people into silence with the promise of rest and safety. what begins as a bedtime story becomes a ritual of suppression, a warning whispered in the dark. playful on the surface, brutal underneath, „the sandman“ is both lullaby and verdict. check it out now.

„heart of stone“ reimagines Wilhelm Hauff’s Das kalte Herz as a modern indictment of those who trade empathy for ambition. told through the eyes of a witness, the lyric follows Peter Munk’s descent from restless dreamer to cold-hearted ruler. verse by verse, it charts his temptation, the deal with Dutch-Mike, and the transformation that follows, a man willingly exchanging his beating heart for a stone to silence compassion, doubt, and fear.
the story quickly outgrows its fairy-tale forest: it becomes a mirror for today’s corridors of power, where success is measured by dominance, not decency. the first chorus asks the listener whether they’d make the same bargain; the final one no longer asks, it demands an answer. built on a steady, marching pulse, „heart of stone“ exposes the seductive logic of cruelty: the belief that to stop feeling is to stop suffering. it’s a song about what’s lost when we start calling that strength. check it out now.

when work becomes violence, the soul becomes a storm.
„kraft und schatten“ doesn’t tell a love story. it’s about work as violence, about souls ground down by the cold machinery of dependency, it’s the cry of a human reduced to a cog, forced to turn in rhythm with the system. at its core, the song frames inner conflict as labor: the raw duality inside, resilience and damage, power and fear, creation and destruction. it’s a metaphor for emotional numbness, trauma, and the societal machinery pressing relentlessly on the individual. the mirror shows not your own face, but the oppressor’s: the employer, the system, the power that dictates your every move.
but „kraft und schatten“ is also defiance. the shadows inside: anger, pain, the suppressed storm are not weakness but fuel. they are the fire that still burns in the night, the power that reawakens even when the body feels broken. „kraft und schatten“ is an anthem of resistance, a reminder that the inner storm can still break the machine. check it out now.

no curse, only a crown of rage. the gavel is her gaze.
„sentenced to stone“ is my take on medusa—not as the monster she’s been painted for centuries, but as a symbol of feminine rage and survival. in western culture, powerful women have long been cast as threats that must be controlled, conquered, or destroyed. medusa is the archetype of that demonization: assaulted, blamed, and punished for a crime she didn’t commit. her story is not just mythology—it mirrors the way patriarchal systems still treat women who suffer violence.
this lyric was driven by the urge to flip that narrative. her serpents are not shame, but strength. her gaze is not a curse, but law. in „sentenced to stone“ she rises from victimhood into agency, embodying a rage that refuses to be silenced. she is judge and executioner, avenger for those who cannot defend themselves. the song reclaims her beauty as well—no longer fragile or ornamental, but fierce, terrible, and radiant because of what she endured and what she became. „sentenced to stone“ is both tribute and threat: a hymn of empowerment, and a reckoning for the violence that patriarchy keeps excusing. check it out now.

when a virus revealed more than just our weakness.
“when the world stood still” is a detached chronicle of how humanity stumbled through the pandemic. the verses look at us like a strange species on display: first fumbling in confusion, then splitting apart in anger. whether the virus came from careless science or reckless appetite hardly matters—the real story lies in how we answered it.
from panic and paralysis to denial and division, the song charts the collapse of unity: cures refused, truths drowned, hatred weaponized. what should have been a fight against a common enemy became a war against ourselves. the bridge and chorus drive that point home, hammering the absurdity of our self-destruction while still throwing out one last call: only together is survival possible. written with irony, weight, and an almost surgical detachment, “when the world stood still” is less about the virus itself than about the mirror it held up to us. check it out now.

no glass slipper, no salvation. only revolt.
„staubkind“ is a dark retelling of cinderella stripped of its fairy-tale sheen. the lyrics expose the systematic abuses hidden in her story: daily humiliation dressed as chores, exploitation masked as duty, and the false salvation of a prince who represents nothing but patriarchal control.
the creative spark came from looking at what that story really teaches when you peel back the glitter. it’s not about rescue. it’s about power imbalance, coercion, and dependence, structures still alive today. the shattered slipper becomes the turning point, but the figure of staubkind is more than cinderella. she is a metaphor, a lyrical symbol for everyone crushed by similar chains, and for the strength to rise from dust and reject imposed oppression. written as an accusation and a rallying cry, „staubkind“ turns a children’s tale into a protest song. it’s about breaking glass, breaking silence, and breaking free. check it out now.

beauty, envy, hatred: when the mirror becomes your feed.
’not the fairest‘ is a dark parable about envy in the age of algorithms. told through the voice of the mirror itself, the lyrics expose how comparison culture feeds on our insecurities, pushing us into a cycle of obsession, spite, and self-destruction. the mirror seduces, taunts, and profits from our hunger to be “the fairest of them all,” only to reveal the emptiness at the end of the spiral.
inspired by the fairy tale of snow white, the song twists the familiar line into a modern critique of social media’s economy of attention. it’s part gothic fable, part social commentary, a track where timeless imagery meets the toxic mechanics of scrolling, liking, and hating. the result is both seductive and cruel, echoing the way platforms hook us with promises they never intend to satisfy. written as a demonic monologue from the mirror’s perspective, ’not the fairest‘ pulls you into the mindset of the algorithm itself: charming at first, then venomous, until it finally admits its own downfall. a cautionary tale for the age of feeds and filters. check it out now.

iron weight. shallow breath. the night becomes a tribunal.
‘standrecht’ is a dark electronic anthem built around the alp, the nightmare figure of german folklore who sits on your chest at night, crushing you with alpdruck until you wake in terror. in this song, the alp is no longer just a creature of dreams, but the very embodiment of martial law: judge, jury, and executioner of your subconscious. every beat is a gavel strike, every chorus a merciless verdict.
the creative driver behind this track was the fascination with how folklore punishes transgression without warning or appeal. just as ’standrecht‘ replaces due process with instant justice, the alp replaces peaceful sleep with suffocating dread, a fitting metaphor for power that comes without mercy. the lyrics draw from idioms like „dich hat der teufel geritten“ and the merciless phrase „kurzen prozess machen“, turning them into the language of a nightmare tribunal.
‘standrecht’ thrives on this tension between myth and authority, between the helplessness of sleep and the brutality of summary judgment. this one’s for the restless, the guilty, and everyone who knows: when the alp arrives, the trial has already ended. check it out now.

a whisper in the dark. a hand reaching out. the forest closes in.
“spirit king” is an intense, stomping descent into the world of the death-spirit himself, no longer a distant figure from goethe’s erlkoenig, but the voice inside your skull. where interpretations of the original ballad range from fever dreams to natural forces, pedophilia, or even rape, this track takes it to a whole new level. it turns the myth into a first-person battle oath: part seduction, part threat, part ceremonial curse.
the creative impulse was simple but ruthless: what if the erlkoenig doesn’t lure from the outside, but speaks from within? instead of retelling the poem, “spirit king” transforms it into an electronic death-chant. driving kicks hit like the horse’s hooves. synths breathe like something stalking you through the trees. the dance floor becomes the forest. the beat becomes the shadow at your neck.
at its core, this song is about surrender to the voice that tempts and commands. about the beauty in menace. it’s for those who feel the pull of the abyss and don’t flinch. step closer. listen carefully. but don’t take his hand.
check it out now.