Emmah Toris - Lyrical Sober Dementia

강렬한 티저영상 보고 기대했던 비디오. 분장이 가위손의 조니뎁하고 조커 합쳐논거 같다.

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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/emm...

"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

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