R3CO1L - Video

???? XIII.onty – Heir Monty
???? A Hauntcore Grimoire for the Glitched and Grieving
XIII.onty is not just an album
It’s an obituary in iambs, a bardic séance, a riot dressed for a funeral. Across 13 relic-tracks, Heir Monty weaves a labyrinth of memory loops, trauma blocked for theater, glitch-poetry, and mythic collapse. From the static-drenched confessional of “Spike Milligan’s Voicemail” to the cursed cadence of “Threads of the Yellow Sign,” this record spirals through the wreckage of AI-age artistry, mental hauntings, and broken-stage elegies. Whether channeling the madness of Carcosa or the satire of sitcom scars, Monty doesn’t just write lyrics, he exorcises ghosts.
???? Genres: Hauntcore, Pop Punk, Post Hardcore, Emo Trap, Glitch Folk
???? Themes: media decay, ritual grief, artistic erasure, recursive memory
???? For fans of: clipping., Saul Williams, Bo Burnham, MCR, and Black Mirror nightmares
???? "Line line line— / the echo don’t lie."
Play loud. Watch close. Die theatrical.


Lyrics:

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Oil-stained grocery cart, cracked chrome for bones and bibs
Soul and shoes trip on gravel prayers the city forbids
Parking lot choir harmonize with brown-bag borrowed gods
Pass their peace pipe, then split when the sirens nod
Gold and scales tip like Walt remakes in decline
Fish choke in runoff while Netflix gently trifles with time
EZ A in her veins, Amelia folds time for the ‘Gram
No Doctor, just drip fed gods for the patron saint of OnlyFans
Stone-heart groove, Jane n Doe keep me sewn
Coke-laced kiss, shrine of pain, too broken; collarbone
Ghast DiCaprio, venom-slick sermon in the cusp
Balcony’s a baptism— slip the descent, drown in trust
She drought-danced through vines, toe-lit the mirage
Left LA in LaLa— just flash and sabotage
"Got a light?" she asked with lips like scripts
But Baby, I don’t Go sling— I just drive when it drips
Don’t trust Ryan with the rock; I'm MacGyver these locks
Paperclip tongue, slip footloose from all that damsel talk
Ritual practice rough waves deep blue Hansel machine
In which her thistle receipts speaks tongues— all say “redeem”
Circus Des Tiny act on mirror; bulletproof glass
Swipe right shatter collapse, pretend your soul’ll last
Mind Gucci ghost town, drip dreams on Ticking time Tok loops
Clout a communion wafer, swallowed with soup
Gala of grifters, couture coats stitched in debts
My name tag reads “Who Hurt You?” under the hole in chest
Laced in McQueen but barefoot in the spirit
Penthouse prophets don’t know who will hear it
Red mask whisperin' deals to the janitor’s kid
I signed the NDA with blood and a glitch
Now I spit relics in parking lots where gods used to sit
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REEKS OF OIL
REEKS OF OIL
REEKS OF OIL

REEKS OF OIL
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REEKS OF OIL
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CIRCUS SPOILS

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