“Jack & Jill” twists a childhood rhyme into something colder, heavier, and harder to escape. The track drips with psychological tension — distant echoes, hollow space, and a sense that something went wrong long before the hill was ever climbed. The red current running through the atmosphere isn’t just imagery… it’s the sound of innocence dissolving into dread.
Industrial weight. Dark techno pressure. Uneasy textures that sit in your chest and don’t let go.
This isn’t horror for shock.
It’s horror that lingers.
You don’t watch this story unfold —
you’re lying at the bottom of the hill with them.
