AWAKE™ (Remastered)

by Notebook.

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Notebook made a swift decision in 2012 to not only show the globe what happens when multiple sides of the World come together to make beautiful, mind-expanding music for your ears, but create the soundtrack for when Sleepwalkers become Lucid Dreamers. Now, in 2015, #AWAKE has been revamped and re-engineered to stand the test of Time...


released August 14, 2015

All music production done by Hairy Potta, Notebook, City Keyz, and Chris Vetrano. All mixing and mastering done by Notebook. Artwork by Danny Void.

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Find Cryptic Wisdom at:

Find Hairy Potta at:

Find CityKeyz at:

Find Chris Vetrano at:

Find Execute Effect (designer of artwork) at:



all rights reserved


Notebook. Clayton, New Jersey

With a niche for bridging the gaps between unusual elements among the music-spectrum, it's undeniable that Notebook is providing one of the most unique listening-experiences yet. Notebook. is pioneering a sound that is as much Universal as it is Abstract; carving out his space in a wide array of genres at once. Tune in and catch the wave. ... more

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Track Name: AWAKE™ (Produced by Hairy Potta)™
magician with a diction to dig in your skull and chain-react
a maniac that moves your brain to pick apart and break the atom
if Einstein picked up a pen and started writing songs
say I'm that, reincarnated with a hang of rapping
crazy antics have your whole soul wired
known by being Edgar Allan Poe's ghostwriter
the flow's tighter than choking your throat with the hole of rope by it
and holding it close until both eyes shut
it's suicidal but illuminating
to find you never lived or died'll be a rude awakening
I pull the fake skin off and I lose patience
I'm not insane at all unless you say I'm crazy, dog
it's too blatant; this digital simulation
is distant but in your way every minute and every day spent
wonder what if and how it'll come stumbling up to say this
feel it rubbing against your faces
delivering medication in my illustrations
and lyrical cadence, composing all these symphonies trapped in a syllable sequence
I leave the machine sleeping
and travel the deep pits of the galaxy when I'm dreaming
DMT drips into my damn pineal gland and the puzzle-board seems fixed
We're deep in and so alive and don't know it, right?
And this is how you poke the eyes of a Poltergeist...
This is how you poke the eyes of a Poltergeist...
Track Name: Mind Trip (Produced by Hairy Potta)
life is like a silent movie gazing on your glasses
actin' while I hit a J with Charlie Chaplin
I'm calling Alice; dropping acid in this wonderland of hearts and fragments
star-dust across the walls and grasses
nature's got a thing for the glitter and gold
intimate flow in the river seeing if I can float
to the bottom; so cool and solumn
melancholic when it swallows me and it's getting erotic
ripping and riding through the tide and swimming atop it
spinning a moshpit with a bit of an optic
illusion, delusion; grooving to music
using this movement to move me right through this...

Mind Trip (x4)

trapping a poltergeist beneath frozen ice
throwing dice in an old gold-stoned chalice with foldgers right
in it, and drinking to keep me awake
got a thing for the early morning peaceful arrange-
ment; cheap dates with me and my alter-ego
staring through the door ever since I saw the peephole
the whole scenes reminiscent of a dream-show
everyone's asleep and I'm the kid that's gunna' scream, though
beast-mode with a beat molded inside of my death grip
writing a message; trying to get in
and reap/sow, tie up the dead-ends
holding it down, analyzing the scales like staring at the side of a dead fish

It's like that, like this, and like that...

Track Name: Simulation (Lovespace) (Produced by CityKeys)
the cup was half-empty
now it's overflowing into a flood and passing me
on a sleeperwave of love until I'm drowning to the floor
I'm bowing to allure as I run this glass city
if it ever shatters then I'll put it back together
wouldn't have to weather a disaster because Heaven took me at the feather
by the wing and the throat, and we sang at the coast
leaving these notes lingering into the seemingly broke
weak and alone; replicated Atlantis
painted the canvas with a better way to contaminate
the blank page and melt away in the damage
and withstand forever's way to re-animate

Love, live, life 'til it's over
Love, live, life 'til it's over, yeah (x2)

caught up in the undertow and swimming to the bottom
wrapping his arms around the hope of getting to the top, but
he's caught up and content with everything
settling down within every dose of the memories left in his head to Be (now) (x2)

I synthesize a frequency and send it to my listeners
and let the bed of knives become an energizer integer
whole again, filing the hole that sat beneath your rib-cage
from the switchblade to the hand that feeds your intake
but leaves you dead; sucking the life through the blood of your veins
mumbling under the rain cloud, mud, and terrain
what is insane? sane?
tell me what if the brain's a mechanical animation we use to project imagination


(Hook) x2

I don't ever want to leave
it's home, heavenly; soul heavily in those melodies
lost in the vibe; I'm gone, intertwined
light off in the sky, but it's all in my mind (x2)

Track Name: Sleepwalkers (Produced by Notebook)
pin me to your fucking cross
and turn my words into slurred verses
curses, disturbed worship
church-hearse'd worthlessness
'cause I am nothing and everything just as you...

I rock a halo and a shattered bong
vagabond playing hot potato with an atom bomb
sat upon the gallows in a hazy mist of blackened fog
brainless and dangling with a paper filled with wacky songs
they're sleep-walking and free-falling
pulling the metal lever down, decapitating me on a diseased carpet
smile in their faces, let retaliation fade away
scattering my Adam's apple after saying Saving Grace
I wear this jacket made of razorblades
but, never play the game and I stay a pacifist awaiting grey
paving the way and escaping this haven
I'm draining my patience, praying to Ravens and making my way in
to the void, ripping the portal open and diving through
the density of light where gloom just sits inside its tomb
Jimi Hendrix sheets, and a box of shrooms
exiting my body saying that they know not what they do

I'm still tongue kissing with the blind-eyed zeitgeist
clinging to her wings like,
"there is more than here for me. Show me all there is to see
there's a war inside their skulls;
I'm the only one who knows it is a dream.
lucid movement I groove in
pulling these foolish nuisances too quick
(who's this?) everyone your brain can ever conjure up
digging in your psyche with a pencil and a lot of fuss

and I'm living in Nirvana right now...

I'm breaking down the metal doors and lockets in your mind (wait)
taking out the empty form that's got you in a lie (hate)
this is programming to your auditory system
magick encrypted within to fix your mind, you're forced to listen
will you give your soul and live in fear of authority's limits
telling you what to think to project it all in your vision?
do you believe what you believe because somebody told you to
or not? it's overdue and you know the truth is molded in a knot
Saw 3 horror scene flick
travel deeper than an LSD trip
you are your own prison; Heaven and Hell
deathbed or excelling energy bell ringing to the depths of your spells
the author and painter walking animated and honestly
making depression and praying for lots of peace
I'm here to give you back the power that you bottled in your vodka drink
cigarettes, and political party team

Track Name: Anarchy (Produced by Hairy Potta)
overly driven, controlling the system
with rhymes choking division to pry open a schism
schizophrenic inner-essence
mirrors get ripped through when I kick the message
irradescent, see-through invisible force
criminal lord taking like every bit of your thoughts
in my fist like I'm gripping a cord
use Shakespeare's pen for poetry when I'm sitting here, bored
my umbilical torn when I pulled the scissors and swords
and asked my mother what this birth certificate's for
saw the madness and wrong-hand action
pulled it apart and figured out a Strawman can't live
rap kid more zen than Buddha on a mountain-top
but, shocking like the movement of a thousand watts
leaving you frozen like a compact scratched disk
fantastic, delivering all that magic
and that's it; dragging the back of your skull
to the rapture of pacifist souls in a cavern unknown
washing perception similar to Aldous, I know
this is enough to make you question every "fact" that you've known
every thought that you've thought
every step that you've walked
every word that you've spoke
everything Dad and Mom wouldn't show

not in the U.S
not in the U.K,
all up in your mindstate
Track Name: Shock Therapy (feat. Cryptic Wisdom) (Produced by EndlessBeats)
embellishing the medicine, synthetic engineering
'til the cellular division leaves you heading to the ceiling
bending everything within your head and interfering
the demon eats your body 'til you shed your skin-appearance
beautiful is ugly; genius is stupidity
invisibility's cheap suit is getting weak
setting free the machinery's soul but leaving a note
to keep in its whole deviant prose
I would keep it as whole instead of dis-easing this keeper, a home
that we live alone, connected through immediate flow
everyday is like the Butterfly Effect
and nothing sweet to keep consuming like a hungry diabetic
Shutter Island; pulling the straitjacketed / medicine cabinet
consumerists into fucking hiding
we don't need no medication
we just need a better day spent

We don't need no medication (x3)
Hey, hey, leave those kids alone

picking bones from the pit of lost ones
pendulum-swing to this little song but
it isn't all done; the rabbit-hole's deeper
than a critter crawling right in a coffin
like six-feet full of skeletons and empty skull-bones
fallen angels that went but never gone home
living in a false glow lit up on a dark road
cut the image through the middle and dissolve slow
distractions provoking sickness and madness
bolted into your fascist soul-dismissive reaction
give yourself to your doctor for prescription
profit from toxic intervention
swallowing pills and dying to the physics
of manipulation advertising 'cause you feel sick
You don't need no medication
You just need a better day spent


(Cryptic Wisdom):
We live in the dark, are taught to have feared fight
And the superior power is to appear right
Telling us all we're hanging for dear life
And we need this, need that for cure, right
And the masses are so damn hooked
Nevermore do we look at the facts or read a book
It's all force fed through convenience
And the parents are letting it happen, no lenience
I was one of the kids that never functioned
At least to society's terms, I said fuck this
Was using drugs and heavy medication
But none of it was ever pure as the meditation
You ain't crazy, just shut em all out
Scream, shout and tear every wall down
You and me are the same, it's all one
And as soon as you know that it's true, the pain numbs

(Hook) x2
Track Name: Deathcab (feat. PrettyBrn1) (Produced by Hairy Potta)
sing your song
one to the two to the three
to the four-door deathcab, thumbs up, driver-seat ghost with his head back (get that?)

skydivers and dreamers, nightsky in the ether
eye blind to the reaper when he rides by in a beamer
blazing a fucking stoagie
flossing his paper under his goatee, yelling out "hater" and cutting so deep
into your abyss until you dig another hole (now)
your edges getting pinned to suck the middle of your soul
ripping apart with a scissor with darkened residue
sharp as credible zombie shreddin' tools and hard as metal boots
stomping upon your vision; marked as fiction
sitting in a coffin with your heart imprisoned
all aboard the art of listening to the radio
dropping their magick and then departing on their mission
zombie neck-bite; they're craving the blood
mind-controlling the fountain of youth, drinking it up
'til the water's unclean with the mud
seemingly dry, hollow, and increasingly stuck
in a blank state; half-empty hearing the echo of my last penny
hit the bottom to this sad ending
Can't feel me? Tell me why these horrible rappers
never told you about the Law of Attraction
It's like philosophy; Socrates with the knowledge
deep inside the bottom of my mind, I seek
nowhere except inside of me
breaking down logic with the art of paradox and that's a lot to see
I'm at the point of power in a thoughtless state
dissolving way into the void until I'm gone and dazed
So off the grid, soul partnership
with the heart within; walking through the forrest with my Artemis
sometimes I like to play the actor on the screen
interacting with the dream, so I seem
a little normal, usual; sleep like a sheep
ain't no Kings tryna' reap everything you believe here
Yeah, we here; yeah, we here
we don't believe fear, use it to achieve here
I said we here; yeah, we here
we don't believe fear, use it to achieve here

Track Name: The Doors of Perception (Produced by Notebook)

life was missing vibrance in its iris when I'd bite her lip
spittin image of a sick and dying spirit diving in
the needle bed; and people said don't greet the dead
but, it seems the fetish overrode their countless tries to get me right again
speed pill for the upper vibe; sleep still but I'm numb inside
another night of headache and medicated love to come alive
digging six feet in the entry with this pretty
shifty disease in my skin breathing and spreading infinitely
I listen and greet this shadow with a warm welcome
my heart fell in and sunk beneath a dark, hellish
arc held together by Lucifer indeed
I'd start selling my soul, but Truth is turning me
to the angellic and selfless embellishing man held in
this damn relic of non-dual eternity
Take a hit and watch the paradoxes open up
pull the sockets & the plugs that everybody's molded ta'

Here I am, here I am
at the window peering in, peering in
but, soon, I may be kicking in, kicking in
for sure, getting wreckless
the glory and essence
The Doors of Perception

I'm putting holes in the fences
breaking all I've invested to the floor 'til it dents in
I'd dive in it, swimming pool
that's kind of sick, vomiting
can't find a fix and I'm fine with it, like a dead-man walking: Living Proof
R.I.P to the man, for real
Can't catch me slipping, banana peel
I slam the breaks and I jam the wheel
I break it down and then re-build
taking out the whole bag of pills
rap to kill, laughing still
ya'll fancy, all I got is ripped jeans,
empty pockets, faith, but damn, I'm chill
millionaire inside of my mind, no need to floss it, though
I've got my moral code, my laws here that I call my own
I'm so far gone, I know; but, I'm in proximity when I start to flow
you feel it, seal it, conceal the words up in the heart fo' sho'
I'm on a roll, and I ain't talking butter
I was the runner-up, but now I just one-upped the runner
That's Super Mario; I'm dodging ghosts and shit
beating down these heathens with a bloody red and swollen fist