This has a nice near future feel to it.
Enjoy!
This has a nice near future feel to it.
Enjoy!

Johnny Cash’s “Cocaine Blues” rolling over Lucy gleefully mowing down the ghoul Elvis-faction is one of those perfectly twisted Fallout moments — absurd, violent, and darkly funny. The song’s tale of a killer singing about his own crimes while Lucy grins through the carnage gives the whole scene a warped playfulness. Cash’s deliberate rhythm, all swagger and doom, turns what could’ve been grim into something closer to a dance — a gunslinging ballet where the wasteland’s chaos feels almost celebratory. That contrast is what makes it pop.
In that moment, “Cocaine Blues” becomes more than just needle-drop nostalgia; it’s commentary on Lucy’s transformation. She’s still got that vault-born cheer in her step, but now there’s something unhinged behind it — she’s caught up in the thrill. The imagery of her gunning down rhinestoned ghouls to Cash’s steady beat blurs innocence and indulgence — she’s no longer reacting to the brutality around her, she’s participating in it with genuine abandon. The song’s tale of killing and comeuppance hangs over her like prophecy, reminding us that even the brightest smile in the wasteland can cast a long shadow.
As the gunfire fades and Cash’s voice trails off, the irony hangs in the dust. Fallout has always thrived on these juxtapositions — the sunny Americana soundtrack to utter moral decay. “Cocaine Blues” leaves the scene pulsing with contradictions: joy and violence, freedom and madness, music and mayhem. It’s the sound of Lucy crossing another invisible line while smiling all the way through it, and Cash is there to make sure we don’t miss the joke.
Cocaine Blues
Early one mornin’ while makin’ the rounds
Took a shot of cocaine and I shot my woman down
Went right home and I went to bed
I stuck that lovin’ 44 beneath my head
Got up next mornin’ and I grabbed that gun
Took a shot of cocaine and away I run
Made a good run, but ran too slow
They overtook me down in Juarez, Mexico
Laid in the hot joints takin’ the pill
In walked the sheriff from Jericho Hill
He said, “Willy Lee, your name is not Jack Brown
You’re the dirty hop that shot your woman down”
Said, “Yes, sir, yes, my name is Willy Lee
If you’ve got a warrant, just read it to me
Shot her down because she made me sore
I thought I was her daddy, but she had five more”
When I was arrested, I was dressed in black
They put me on a train and it took me back
Had no friends for to go my bail
They slapped my dried up carcass in that county jail
Got up next mornin’ ’bout a half past nine
Spied the sheriff coming down the line
Hopped and he coughed as he cleared his throat
He said, “Come on you dirty hop into that district court”
Into the courtroom, my trial began
Where I was handled by 12 honest men
Just before the jury started out
I saw that little judge commence to look about
In about five minutes in walked the man
Holding the verdict in his right hand
The verdict read in the first degree
I hollered, “Lordy, Lordy, have mercy on me”
The judge he smiled as he picked up his pen
99 years in the Folsom pen’
99 years underneath that ground
I can’t forget the day I shot that bad bitch down
Come on you hops and listen unto me
Lay off that whiskey and let that cocaine be
Who isn’t?
Enjoy!

Metaphor: ReFantazio‘s “Battle Theme” erupts with thunderous brass and pounding drums, turning routine turn-based scraps into pulse-racing spectacles that pull you right into the fray. Shoji Meguro amps the drama by weaving in rhythmic chanting from Myōhō–ji temple’s chief priest, Keisuke Honryo, sung in the international language of Esperanto for that timeless, cross-cultural resonance which makes every Archetype clash feel profoundly ritualistic.
The rhythmic Esperanto vocals loop hypnotically over surging strings and synth pulses, cresting with victorious horns that time perfectly to weakness chains and squad synthesis attacks, mirroring the combat’s strategic highs. This primal chant roots the fantasy battles in spiritual depth, evolving Atlus’s sound beyond synth-pop into something hauntingly primal that lingers post-fight.
It anchors the award-lauded OST’s standout moments, those monk-delivered Esperanto lines lending legendary weight to even basic encounters—though their fervor can overshadow subtler scenes.
Everyday is Halloween if you want it to be.
Enjoy!
Today, the Shattered Lens observes the birthdays of two great actors, Robert Duvall and the much-missed Diane Keaton.
Along with being two of America’s best actors, Duvall and Keaton also co-starred in the first two Godfather films. They didn’t share many scenes in the second film (though there was at least one Duvall/Keaton scene that was filmed but not included in the final film) but, in the first film, they have a memorable moment in which Keaton (as Kay) visits the Corleone compound while the Corleones are in the middle of a gang war, and asks Duvall’s Tom Hagen to send a letter to Michael in Sicily. Hagen explains that he can’t do that because that would serve as evidence that he knew where Michael was. When Kay notices a car that has obviously been bombed, Tom blandly replies, “Oh, that was an accident. Luckily, no one was hurt!”
In honor of these two amazing performers and my favorite movie of all time, today’s song of the day is Nino Rota’s theme from The Godfather.
This video was directed by Diane Keaton, who would have turned 80 today.
Enjoy!
Today’s song of the day was memorably heard in George Pan Cosmatos’s 1986 film, Cobra. Here is Angel of the City by Robert Tepper!
This music video was directed by Harmony Korine, to whom the Shattered Lens wishes a happy birthday.
Enjoy!