Скачать или смотреть Forbidden Flesh Machine

Steel pulses. Flesh writhes. Consent is optional. “Forbidden Flesh Machine” is a thumping, industrial-lust anthem about a biomech abomination that was never meant to feel. Circuits, sinew, and synthetic sin collide in this chaotic descent into synth-grind depravity. You’ll dance, scream, and maybe question everything.

Brought to you by the Tuna Bear Music Factory.

Wake up, sweet colonist, the surgeon’s drunk again,
We swapped your arms with mechanoid limbs and called it medicine.
You blink and see the lab lights strobe, red-soaked and cold,
Your screams just trigger the bassline—baby, welcome to the fold.
The nurse is a drone with a face made of wire,
And the IV’s dripping liquid fire.

We clone 'em young and raise 'em hard,
Psychic shock collars as calling cards.
A breeding chart tacked to the fridge—
Every pairing fuels the bridge.
They dance in chains to the rhythm of pain,
One more traitor fed to the gene-stained drain.

You thought this world had rules—how quaint.
Now kneel before the gene-spliced saint.

FORBIDDEN FLESH MACHINE—
We burn the code and eat the dream.
Strap the ethics to the pyre,
Splice the blood, ignite the wire.
FORBIDDEN FLESH MACHINE—
No gods, no guilt, just kerosene.
Plug your soul into the scream,
Ride the rhythm of the obscene.

No organ's sacred, no heart too black,
We traded morals for genehack stacks.
A vat of minds in sterile jars—
We name them like they're rock stars.
Plugged into tubes, their voices blend,
Writing love songs for the bitter end.

The prisoners? Art projects.
The lovers? Test subjects.
The storytellers? Rewritten scripts—
Bards with shock-laced fingertips.
We remix life with casual sin,
Where the gods gave up and we begin.

Welcome to the garden of the damned—
We sow flesh with a lightning hand.

FORBIDDEN FLESH MACHINE—
We burn the code and eat the dream.
Strap the ethics to the pyre,
Splice the blood, ignite the wire.
FORBIDDEN FLESH MACHINE—
No gods, no guilt, just kerosene.
Plug your soul into the scream,
Ride the rhythm of the obscene.

Sing me a lullaby of biotech doom,
Where the nursery glows in surgical gloom.
DNA’s just jazz in a butcher’s hands—
Conduct the chaos, rewrite the plans.
No birthright left, no future clean,
We pray to the pulse of the Flesh Machine...
Sing me a lullaby of biotech doom,
Where the nursery glows in surgical gloom.
DNA’s just jazz in a butcher’s hands—
Conduct the chaos, rewrite the plans.
No birthright left, no future clean,
We pray to the pulse of the Flesh Machine.

FORBIDDEN FLESH MACHINE—
Unholy, chrome, and dopamine.
Flay the stars and skin the dream,
We’re gods now... or so we scream!
FORBIDDEN FLESH MACHINE—
Genepunk gospel, stitched obscene.
The future bleeds in ultraviolet beams—
Plug in, black out, become the meme.

#ArtInstallationGoneWrong #BiomechanicalPerformanceArt #RobotEmpathy #IndustrialTherapy #ConsentProtocols #TactileInterface #RimworldResearch #SciFiRomance #TunaBearExperiment #DefinitelyNotErotic #rimworld