// transmission
Psyche premieres two original songs, one tribute to tarot reader Prairie Page and another addressing an obsessed fan named Tony, before stepping away for a business meeting.
/// initiate_layer
Observers see the surface.
/// within ∞ The Current
Browse era →hair. Maple leaves falling. She don't seem to care. She lines up a shot and swings smooth. No rage. That's my Canadian darling. That's Prairie Page.
That's cards on the table, incense in the air. Tarot spread open. She reads like a prayer.
Sweet voice humming, heart full of sage. Every word she speaks feels like a golden
Crystal Marie on a midnight stream. Neon eyes and conspiracy dreams. Talking cults in the desert sands. Tattoo maps and shaking hands. She's got screenshots, names, and days.
A tin for a halo. Seeing fates in a chat room chapel. Saints confess. Every broadcast feels like a holy mess. She's kooky. She's hot. She might be right. Dropping bombs in the middle of the
night. White rose, black vans, symbols, sex. Oh Lord, what will she say next? Crazy cult gangs and traffickers. Crystals leave with the digital sabotars. Truth or fiction doesn't
matter much. She's fire and static and psychic touch.
She's seen the symbols in the cornfield blow. Heard angels whisper through the radio. There's always a villain in a secret cabal and crystals there exposing it all. One moment sweet, next she's
fierce, tearing the veil with the crystal spear. Half prophecy, half improv show. Either way, the crowd won't go. She's part oracle, part myth, half the room scared, the rest upset. Her
eyeliner as sharp as a truth dissected. And every theory leaves the chat infected. You can laugh, but you still tune in because she's chaos wrapped in porcelain skin.
She's kooky, she's hot, she might be true. The streams on fire and the pixels blue. Cold skes and shadows sex. Here we go again. What will she say next? Crystal Marie, the siren of the feet.
Every word of fever, every claim of creed. Maybe she's right. Maybe it's hex. Either way,
what will she say?
Whoa. Hold on. You guys hear me? Okay. I have a new song. You like that one? That was good. That was Crystal Marie song. Okay. Hey, Trevor. Oh my god, Trevor's back. Okay, well, here's a new uh for Tony Tone. Hope you like it.
Sorry. That's okay. Hold on. Here we go. We're back.
the we below. You love me or you hate me. Hard to tell through that. He's all up in the thread saying we met on Mars. Talking about my soul like he owns the stars. Saying I'm in his right saying I'm in his dreams, but he's down in LA while I'm ruling the
streams. I'm up in the He's stuck in the chat. I water my roses while he's typing in caps. It must be the fumes. It must be the tea. He's feeding on my shadow like it's currency. Why you so obsessed, Tony? I just want to know. You're out here dark and love like it's a garden.
You say you send me. Yeah, I saw the low but my blooms think you're madness. It's pure compost gold. You're delusional. You're delusional. But you've lost your way. You're confusing true with digging where I lay. You got that complex typing like a prophecy. Threw you clean like when decks on gossip. You on your job,
you hating hard. Dropping links like tarot cards. You call me gold. I call you fan. You're the sequel of a plan. Say you miss me. We never met. That's a kind of internet. I'm a constellation. You're a common thread. I'm sering rumors. I just turn them into flame. Free manual, free press. You bless my
domain. I grow higher every time you play the game. Yeah. And you're delusional. You're delusional, boy. You're losing your mind. Confusion is your perfume. I smell it all the time. Got you all fired up. Got you chasing the mist. See right through your soap blower kiss. Oh, sage counts. Late night
scrappers. Your devotions pure disasters. Say it louder. Spell it right. Love's not cold. You can't ride. You're talking to the mirror, Tony, not to me. You control the truth. Don't mute my frequency. Oh, so so
keep the gossip is my promo. So so I rise through the smoke while your echo stays slow. Why you so obsessed, Tony? It's cosmic. You fell in love with a
I'm
like it. Oh, you see me? Where am I? I love it. That was good.
It's kind of a dark trap beat. Hold on. Katrina, you see Katrina? I don't see Katrina from blocked. Katrina, do I Why would I have Katrina blocked? Katrina, did you you said something? Well, look. And look, you're not even You're not even banned. What the hell? I play that song again. That was so good.
Psych Bloom Tony in the we below. You love me or you hate me. Hard to tell through that. >> He's all up in the thread saying we met on Mars. Talking about my soul like he owns the stars. Saying I'm in his right. Saying I'm in his dreams, but he's down
in LA. While I'm ruling the streams, I'm up in the He's stuck in the chat. I water my roses while he's typing in caps. It must be the fumes. It must be the tea. He's feeding on my shadow like it's current. Why you so obsessed, Tony? I just want to know. You're out here
dark and love like it's a garden. You say you send manure. Yeah, I saw the low but my blooms think your madness. It's pure compost gold. You're delusional. You're delusional, but boy, you've lost your way. You're confused and true with thirsting where I lay. You got that complex typing like a prophecy. Do you
clean like Windex on gossip? You on your job, you hating hard. Dropping links like tarot cards. You call me cold. I call you fan. You're the people of a plan. Say you miss me. We never met. That's a kind of internet. I'm a constellation. You're a common thread. I'm sering rumors. I just turn them into flame.
Free man renew free press. You bless my domain. I grow higher every time you play the game. Yeah. And you're delusional. You're delusional. Boy, you're losing your mind. Confusion is your perfume. I smell it all the time. Got you all fired up. Got you chasing the mist. See right through your soap
kiss. Oh counts. Late night scrappers. Your devotions pure disasters. Say it louder. Spell it right. Love's not cold. You can't rewrite. Talking to the mirror, Tony, not to me. You control the truth. Don't mute my frequency. Oh, so
so keep the gossip is my promo. So I rise through the smoke while your echo stays slow. Why you so obsessed, Tony? These calls make you sad. You fell in love with the man.
>> Oh my gosh. Uh oh. Oh, I'm sorry. Uh I just wanted to premiere that song. I'll be back a little bit. I I have a a little business meeting I got to attend to. So I'll be back shortly. I love you.
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