album cover
Raincoat
1
Underground Rap
Raincoat was released on August 29, 2025 by Sound Of Salt as a part of the album Mourning In Angst
album cover
Release DateAugust 29, 2025
LabelSound Of Salt
LanguageEnglish
Melodicness
Acousticness
Valence
Danceability
Energy
BPM137

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Mournst
Mournst
Performer
Dylan Zachariah Ross
Dylan Zachariah Ross
Lead Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Dylan Zachariah Ross
Dylan Zachariah Ross
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Mournst
Mournst
Producer
Dylan Zachariah Ross
Dylan Zachariah Ross
Producer

Lyrics

A bit of a drab day, looking at my journals, old playlists
Pictures that date all the way back to the bat cave
Whatever it was, the equivalent that I had to that phase
Flash frame to the same factor, washed up with a patch of grass
I mean its gonna look like Shawn Lee soon if that's the case
Acutane patient face, in a crater-hacked up state
Stuck in the past, even more than usual as of late
Checked out, locked into placid thoughts with a tacit gaze
What should I write, I swear there was something I had to say
I have a brain, as if made specifically for catching strays
I can plan and plan all day but I don't understand the way
To make what I want to have happen, or what it will even have to take
Linear thought pattern break, time, dark matter, space
No matter the case, don't get trapped inside of a bag of flake
Complaining how this party's even lamer than my grandmas wake
The music's too recognisable, Mind if I go grab my tapes?
As the days grow longer I have managed to ascertain
Maxwells demon seems to grow stronger as he vacillates
Fixate on the time-lapse pig, watch as it decays
Thoughts too ectopic to even pinpoint the accurate place
Trapped in a maze, managed to escape a stagnant haze
I feel like an Agatha Christie character that cracked the case
Cosmic hearse, death church, data format, erase
Black tape for a blunt-cut, blue-black Saturday
Dimwitted, can barely count with my fingers from one to nine
Tonight, watching Philosophy of a Knife for the hundredth time
If I text, don't call If I call, don't respond
I'm despondent, I just want to see if you can spot the signs
Flawed design like all of us, but all in all, all is fine
Squalid off the richter, I speak in riddles and talk in rhymes
Took a second to stop at a very specific spot in time
To jot some lines but it seems the tines of my pen are not aligned
Oh good heavens, what do I do now? I can not decide
Get up to piss Come back to crawl inside of a box, and hide
This isn't a time I can afford to rest my exhausted eyes
Red string room thoughts, midi time clock divide
Arrive, concepts collide, distilled, order brought to life
Pen in hand, softly guide, streamlined and optimised
Choice remarks, often snide, on the fly often fly
Gazing up into the abyss of a milk-malted sky
Hallowed name up on high, hollow cry intensified
Multiplied, from behind the surface of a caustic eye
All the money lost when I went out and got some botched advice
Found the knife I thought I lost that shaved years off of my life
Haunted by wasted potential, find no joy in small delights
Whining like a table saw, the fatal flaw that gnaws and bites
Primal scream from the diaphragm, clogged up with my
Nervous system shock, wound: improperly cauterised
Run-off from another novelistic plot device
In the atrophied part of my mind it would appear to occupy
White, oxidised, fade stain slow, had a vision of a pigeon named Crow
This is what you came foe
Remember Moby Karl? Same, from back in the days, grown
Aim the bow, go for piece-meal dissection tape-flow
Wash the bank note, bankroll, loosely knocking around
In the pocket of my brown dick tracy raincoat
Written by: Dylan Zachariah Ross
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