Not merely an album, but a requiem for the selves we once were—the loves we could not keep, the memories we could not bury, and the pieces of our hearts lost somewhere between devotion and ruin.
Within these songs lie confessions whispered beneath midnight, sorrow dressed in velvet, and feelings that lingered long after they had ceased to belong. Every melody carries a fragment of something once loved, once lost, or perhaps never meant to be ours at all.
Yet this is no tale of surrender.
For sometimes, one must bury the person they were before they may rise as someone new. And perhaps therein lies the cruel beauty of it all: that from every ending, something within us still dares to live.
So let these songs speak where words once failed.
Let the ghosts of yesterday find their final verse.
Death of Me is out now.
The chapter is written.
The grave is open.
And Evan hath risen from it.
With what remains of me,
Hamka.