Emmah Toris

Emmah Toris - Lyrical Sober Dementia (Official Video) by Cat Music

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Lyrical Sober Dementia - Lyrics

A puppet - high on crack

A monster - smiling back

On batteries... I move

No music and no groove

In people... I collide

No heartbeat deep inside

I wish that I could feel... and I wish I could be real

I wish it could be real.

Stop

One, two, three, four... bogeyman is at the door

Gonna break and gonna turn

Liars into mud

A blackbird - on the ground

A savage - turned around

Beneath the wings... I hide

No beings by my side

In sounds... I rest and move

No heartbeat to improve

I wish that I could feel...and I wish I could be real

I wish it could be real.

Artist : Emmah Toris

Track : Lyrical Sober Dementia

Music by : Bogdan Popoiag

Lyrics : Emmah Toris

Directed & Edited by : Bogdan Popoiag

Make Up : Diana Ionescu

Choreography : Paul Gheorghe ( Trouble Crew )

Executive Producer : Raul Dumitru

Special thanks to IDELIER for their support.

http://www.emmahtoris.com/

http://www.facebook.com/emmah.toris

https://soundcloud.com/emmahtoris/emmah-toris-lyrical-sober

"The manner in which one comes to depend upon cunning variables (medication,

hallucinogens, pecuniary interests)... leads to one's transformation into a puppet of the ego.The manner in which one comes to choose the path of not ceasing (to consume and

acquire according to means that are against nature)... leads to one's transformation into a monster (the confinement or even the amputation of divinity).

At the border between the Old Man (melancholiac, yet filled with refined sounds, with the charm of all the lines that gaze upon ourselves from the gazed upon pages) and the New Man (frightened, yet terribly excited by metallic sounds)...there is the Hermaphrodite Being. Therefore, all the quantum possibilities are hereby condensed into the primary

alternatives of Good and Evil. At the end of the game -- of an existential cycle -- there is no disgracefulness whatsoever, but transformation: either within the remains that are

soaked in cadaverine and putrescine, or the august marvel of unprecedented possibilities.

In the end...there was the word. "

- Emmah Toris