Call Me Sleeper - Lost Crown [ Dark Clubbing ]

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This song is also the opener for the *DISTURBIA Vol.4* Mix
On the Aim To Head Mix channel -

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#midtempo #bassmusic #ebsm

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Lyrics:

I don't mean to hurt you.
This heart breaks now you've left your crown.
Love is gone and can't be found.
Can't be found, out.

callmesleeper

I've not been able to stop listening to this whenever I discovered it this year.

Herknungr

Yo, this is epic!! Blasting in my living room right now for the 2nd time💥 This is hot! The vocals were a really nice touch as well.

anotherhealingjourneybegins

The music pounded like a heartbeat, relentless and primal, reverberating through the dimly lit club. The air was thick with the scent of iron and sweat, a heady cocktail that clung to the undead patrons writhing under strobe lights. It was the kind of place that thrived on decay, where shadows danced longer than the figures that cast them, and the walls seemed to pulse with the rhythm of a world on the brink of collapse.

He stood amidst the chaos, his movements mechanical, an imitation of life long extinguished. The vampire's gaze was distant, his mind already at the battlefield that awaited him beyond this fleeting abyss of hedonism. The clan he called family was gone—annihilated or scattered like ashes on the wind. He was the last remnant, a relic clinging to existence by sheer will and a bitter refusal to kneel.

Above him, old industrial sprinklers, relics of a time when the building had served a more mundane purpose, hissed to life. But instead of water, blood cascaded in crimson rivulets, raining down in thick streams. It coated the dancers, turning their already pale skin a glistening scarlet, their open mouths catching drops as though it were ambrosia. The vampire tilted his face to the torrent, letting the viscous liquid smear across his cheeks and run down his throat. He didn’t taste it—couldn’t taste it.

The numbness had set in hours ago, maybe days. Time blurred in this strange purgatory where every moment felt like both an eternity and a fleeting spark. His body moved to the beat, a reluctant puppet to the rhythm. He didn’t want to dance, didn’t want to be here, but the thrum of the music dragged him into its dark current, the same way gravity pulled a falling stone.

The others around him had no idea what was coming. To them, this was just another night, another ritual of blood and sound. But for him, it was the prologue to an ending he could not rewrite. The real battle loomed—a fight not just for survival but for the existence of his very name, his legacy, his soul.

As the blood rain fell heavier, the vampire closed his eyes. For a moment, just a moment, he let himself drown in the sound, the sensation, the illusion of connection. Then he opened them, his gaze sharpening like steel drawn from a sheath. The music didn’t matter. The dance didn’t matter. Soon, there would only be the silence of the battlefield and the final reckoning that awaited him there.

FirasAyman