it is, but the work that was put towards it to make it into somethings that is amazing has to be praised... the oringinal stranger things theme is the best thing ever but short, someone had to shove it in a deep house track and he did it, I love it.
nope, it is a remix, the stranger things "sounds" were produced by this guy from cero, he used the priary track as a sampler to add kicks, so it is a remix.
Spare Change Philosophy I couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to pass up on the begging abilities of a nearly talented street busker playing a rendition of a Neil Young classic I could barely remember from a high school dance almost two decades previous. Spare change jingling in my pocket didn’t make its way out of my pocket for many reasons. Far too many to mention. The manic-depressive nature of the Lift Locks was another thought at the back of my head that required a coffee to settle it in for the drive. But I was marking my words carefully in case someone was listening in on my thoughts. You know how the KGB and the CIA did things. No, I was going to resist being a pawn in someone else's nightmare. If they really wanted a dose they could slip into my memory bank and take out a loan of small change and figure out where to spend it in their grand scheme of things, but my interest was very high. The Bank of Canada in the gray matter department. But I thought it was time to stop thinking of myself for a while and invest at the Food Bank at the doors of the Bank of Nova Scotia before I went fishing into my own personal matters at the IBM. I knew someone was watching me in absolute quiet through the lens of a security camera. I did a little dance shuffle to distract them from my findings. As a current rule to myself, I wrote John 3:16 on my bills before giving them out to my passengers, hoping it would get the message across. I think it did because the streets were so much different in my eyes that I didn’t have the same feeling of doom and gloom that I had experienced several years earlier. So on the way back, retracing my steps, I threw a coin to Neil Young’s child hammering away “Heart Of Gold” with passers passing by. I heard how he sang. I heard how he strummed. Quite brilliant for a street vendor, but short of the bars. No one but my ghost was waiting in my taxi when I arrived. How was I supposed to know that breakdowns of the mental ilk were in store for me around the next block when I came face to face with the most beautiful pedestrians walking this face of the Earth? I found a penny on the floor beside me and thought about the wells it may have visited and the luck it might have brought to someone at some point. Never one to decline such a special offer, I picked it up and pocketed the copper and waited for something decent to come our way so that we might change the world together in a special way. Soon it would be Christmas, hosted by the Salvation Army, and I was ready to be recruited. And the strummer strummed on… Suggestion Box I would like to suggest that the suggestion box be move to a more obvious location where less searching individuals with less demands might find it and be provoked into coming up with possible improvements to this lousy head game sound stage you refer to as a "psychiatric ward". As for my second request please take the cameras out of the shower heads. My third request would be to quit listening in on my private conversations via the intercom systems that are wired into each room. God These are not the days of trivial matters and man made decoys along the path of life. Enter through the gate through the period at the end of this sentence. Move your eyes left and right and reflect upon your circumstance. Realize that the eternal camera surrounds you in every possible angle, filming take, after take, after take, until one day the director says "Cut, let’s edit…" You move with a semi-paranoia toward a door that leads to more nowheres and wish the credits would roll already on the never ending story in which you had no input or decision in as to whether to star in it or play a supporting roll.Half sad, half happy, you realize that souvenir star you bought on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame has come to life hanging on your wall and no one can take it away from you. You live in a mansion built for you on a street in a city that has no name, and your phone doesn’t ring much anymore because most people have forgotten you. There’s still a small store down at the corner with all the things you need to be content and to be reassured that the world has not ended, that you will go on in spite of your short comings. Pictures, music, books and assorted souvenirs of a past life line your walls like a mirror image of yourself without the graying hair. The Bible is close at hand like a motel room on an unknown highway where truckers still sing with Elvis and speak in secret codes from CB to CB. Taxis speed by your picture window to the world as if nothing is happening inside your mind at this very moment. Satellites surround the planet looking for the enemy, mapping out the globe, picking up license plate numbers, made by convicts, on cars that are headed back to where they came from, in due time. Many children are born at this moment anywhere out there who will attempt to remedy the foolishness in the hearts of many men with their brave concepts and a willingness to go against the odds and try to do things right this time round. Their names may not appear in the papers but you know they’re around just the same. A boy and a girl will listen to an old song written before they were born and feel like it was written just for them. And oddly enough you have a similar story to tell about that very same song at a different point on calendar light years before. You’ve just arrived back where you are at this very moment from a pleasant memory of a girl you once kissed in a memorable location that you’re not about to tell to anyone just yet. One of your favourite movies is being shown on a channel, with subtitles, somewhere in the world right now on a channel you do not receive. A news announcer is giving out bad news to a helpless audience that deserves better, but all he can see is dollar signs and ratings the next morning when he swallows more bad news with the morning paper and coffee and a wife that loves him for his money, power and fame. There’s an engineer on a train somewhere that is hoping that the car creeping beyond the rail crossing will change its mind and go back. Artists are painting very quietly late into the night, brushstroke upon brushstroke, discovering new truths about themselves. And yet there is that hatred of man toward his fellow man that you’ve felt yourself before in your darker moments that seems to be invading your living room from all directions from the television. You turn it off in anguish. If you get the time someday you’re going to write a book but you realize you had better have something to say, so you delve deep within and get scared by some of the things you discover within…so you open another can of beer and hope it all goes away before someone finds out that your inner universe is a very dark place. You turn on the light in your apartment and hope it is all some strange dream but you soon realize you’re soon going to have to face the facts that you’re you and nobody else. Somebody loves you, or else you wouldn’t be here, you tell yourself. You climb out of bed in the middle of the longest night in your life and pray for the first time since you were small and innocent and ask Jesus Christ to enter your life because things have gotten way out of hand and you can’t manage your life anymore without God’s help. You pray the Lord’s prayer like you really mean it for the first time in a long time and something touches you where you never thought was touchable and the sensation is like a weight lifted from your shoulders that you didn't know you were carrying around with you for quite some time. You want to tell the world what just happened but the world would not understand. The world’s too busy getting ready for the next day’s stock exchange, trading in worthless currencies and panning for fool’s gold. The colour has returned to your inner picture and the future is turning positive right before your very eyes. God is celebrating in His heaven, elated for the prodigal son you were, finally returning home at last. You pull out that puzzle you were given as a gift and spill out the pieces on the kitchen table and realize that it’s one of those tricky puzzles that doesn’t include the finished picture. You collect all the edges and start assembling the pieces…similar colours in a pile…after several hours the picture becomes clear…you’re looking at a bridge over a seemingly bottomless canyon and you almost have to squint to see what’s on the other side. It looks pretty good from here but you want to get to the other side…there’s a small little sign at the other side of the bridge but it’s hard to read from where you are, so you go and find the magnifying glass in the kitchen drawer. On closer inspection you look at the sign in the picture and it reads "You’re Getting There…Love, God"…a tear comes to your eye as you realize this moment might have never come were it not for God’s loving guidance throughout your life along the way. "Amazing Grace" comes to mind and you remember a guy named Tom who used to play the song on the piano when you were in the hospital one time…and you say thanks to all the angels who came to earth over the years to guide you along your way…you pray a silent prayer of thanks that only God and you can hear…you ask God for forgiveness and he points you to the foot of the cross. You reach inside your pocket and pull out the little cross you’ve carried around for many years now and it makes a whole lot more sense. The world keeps turning round like a fine tuned timepiece, around the sun, around the Milky Way and you realize that tomorrow is a new chapter in your life story. It’s time to let go of the past. Yesterday is over. All you ever really have is the now. No more, no less. Maybe someday you’ll get to writing that book. God will let you know when and if the time is ever right. It’s all in His hands. It’s all by His plans now. Amen.
![Kyle Dixon & Michael Stein - Kids (Playdoh Remix) [Stranger Things OST]](http://i.ytimg.com/vi/ugT4_IMUNFE/mqdefault.jpg)
This is the best show of my time like this show so going to be around for generations!
Oh yes that's sooo true and right 💕❤🤩👌👍🤗
this is cool thx I really like it
it should have more views likes and comments
One of the best!!
Very nicely done 👍
Sooo nice and perfect 💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕❤❤❤😍🤩🤩🤩👌👍
great work!
this is so good
This is Olderic & Peter Pardeike - Connaisseur (Orginal Mix) mixed with some other things... !!!
it is, but the work that was put towards it to make it into somethings that is amazing has to be praised... the oringinal stranger things theme is the best thing ever but short, someone had to shove it in a deep house track and he did it, I love it.
Should be called a mashup instead of a remix
nope, it is a remix, the stranger things "sounds" were produced by this guy from cero, he used the priary track as a sampler to add kicks, so it is a remix.
Melhor versão C-loco cachoeira cabeça ficou quadrada
This would make a dope Billy Jean remix too..js
Pum pum pum pum🔊🔊🔇🔇
Yeah Bro is me !!!! Three years later... 😢Pum PUM PUM 🔊🔊
🔥
Spare
Change Philosophy
I
couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to pass up on the begging
abilities of a nearly talented street busker playing a rendition of a
Neil Young classic I could barely remember from a high school dance
almost two decades previous. Spare change jingling in my pocket
didn’t make its way out of my pocket for many reasons. Far too many
to mention. The manic-depressive nature of the Lift Locks was another
thought at the back of my head that required a coffee to settle it in
for the drive. But I was marking my words carefully in case someone
was listening in on my thoughts. You know how the KGB and the CIA did
things. No, I was going to resist being a pawn in someone else's
nightmare. If they really wanted a dose they could slip into my
memory bank and take out a loan of small change and figure out where
to spend it in their grand scheme of things, but my interest was very
high. The Bank of Canada in the gray matter department. But I thought
it was time to stop thinking of myself for a while and invest at the
Food Bank at the doors of the Bank of Nova Scotia before I went
fishing into my own personal matters at the IBM. I knew someone was
watching me in absolute quiet through the lens of a security camera.
I did a little dance shuffle to distract them from my findings. As a
current rule to myself, I wrote John 3:16 on my bills before giving
them out to my passengers, hoping it would get the message across. I
think it did because the streets were so much different in my eyes
that I didn’t have the same feeling of doom and gloom that I had
experienced several years earlier. So on the way back, retracing my
steps, I threw a coin to Neil Young’s child hammering away “Heart
Of Gold” with passers passing by. I heard how he sang. I heard how
he strummed. Quite brilliant for a street vendor, but short of the
bars. No one but my ghost was waiting in my taxi when I arrived. How
was I supposed to know that breakdowns of the mental ilk were in
store for me around the next block when I came face to face with the
most beautiful pedestrians walking this face of the Earth? I found a
penny on the floor beside me and thought about the wells it may have
visited and the luck it might have brought to someone at some point.
Never one to decline such a special offer, I picked it up and
pocketed the copper and waited for something decent to come our way
so that we might change the world together in a special way. Soon it
would be Christmas, hosted by the Salvation Army, and I was ready to
be recruited. And the strummer strummed on…
Suggestion
Box
I
would like to suggest that the suggestion box be move to a more
obvious location where less searching individuals with less demands
might find it and be provoked into coming up with possible
improvements to this lousy head game sound stage you refer to as a
"psychiatric ward". As for my second request please take
the cameras out of the shower heads. My third request would be to
quit listening in on my private conversations via the intercom
systems that are wired into each room.
God
These
are not the days of trivial matters and man made decoys along the
path of life. Enter through the gate through the period at the end of
this sentence. Move your eyes left and right and reflect upon your
circumstance. Realize that the eternal camera surrounds you in every
possible angle, filming take, after take, after take, until one day
the director says "Cut, let’s edit…" You move with a
semi-paranoia toward a door that leads to more nowheres and wish the
credits would roll already on the never ending story in which you had
no input or decision in as to whether to star in it or play a
supporting roll.Half sad, half happy, you realize that souvenir star
you bought on the Hollywood Walk Of Fame has come to life hanging on
your wall and no one can take it away from you. You live in a mansion
built for you on a street in a city that has no name, and your phone
doesn’t ring much anymore because most people have forgotten you.
There’s still a small store down at the corner with all the things
you need to be content and to be reassured that the world has not
ended, that you will go on in spite of your short comings. Pictures,
music, books and assorted souvenirs of a past life line your walls
like a mirror image of yourself without the graying hair. The Bible
is close at hand like a motel room on an unknown highway where
truckers still sing with Elvis and speak in secret codes from CB to
CB. Taxis speed by your picture window to the world as if nothing is
happening inside your mind at this very moment. Satellites surround
the planet looking for the enemy, mapping out the globe, picking up
license plate numbers, made by convicts, on cars that are headed back
to where they came from, in due time. Many children are born at this
moment anywhere out there who will attempt to remedy the foolishness
in the hearts of many men with their brave concepts and a willingness
to go against the odds and try to do things right this time round.
Their names may not appear in the papers but you know they’re
around just the same. A boy and a girl will listen to an old song
written before they were born and feel like it was written just for
them. And oddly enough you have a similar story to tell about that
very same song at a different point on calendar light years before.
You’ve just arrived back where you are at this very moment from a
pleasant memory of a girl you once kissed in a memorable location
that you’re not about to tell to anyone just yet. One of your
favourite movies is being shown on a channel, with subtitles,
somewhere in the world right now on a channel you do not receive. A
news announcer is giving out bad news to a helpless audience that
deserves better, but all he can see is dollar signs and ratings the
next morning when he swallows more bad news with the morning paper
and coffee and a wife that loves him for his money, power and fame.
There’s an engineer on a train somewhere that is hoping that the
car creeping beyond the rail crossing will change its mind and go
back. Artists are painting very quietly late into the night,
brushstroke upon brushstroke, discovering new truths about
themselves. And yet there is that hatred of man toward his fellow man
that you’ve felt yourself before in your darker moments that seems
to be invading your living room from all directions from the
television. You turn it off in anguish. If you get the time someday
you’re going to write a book but you realize you had better have
something to say, so you delve deep within and get scared by some of
the things you discover within…so you open another can of beer and
hope it all goes away before someone finds out that your inner
universe is a very dark place. You turn on the light in your
apartment and hope it is all some strange dream but you soon realize
you’re soon going to have to face the facts that you’re you and
nobody else. Somebody loves you, or else you wouldn’t be here, you
tell yourself. You climb out of bed in the middle of the longest
night in your life and pray for the first time since you were small
and innocent and ask Jesus Christ to enter your life because things
have gotten way out of hand and you can’t manage your life anymore
without God’s help. You pray the Lord’s prayer like you really
mean it for the first time in a long time and something touches you
where you never thought was touchable and the sensation is like a
weight lifted from your shoulders that you didn't know you were
carrying around with you for quite some time. You want to tell the
world what just happened but the world would not understand. The
world’s too busy getting ready for the next day’s stock exchange,
trading in worthless currencies and panning for fool’s gold. The
colour has returned to your inner picture and the future is turning
positive right before your very eyes. God is celebrating in His
heaven, elated for the prodigal son you were, finally returning home
at last. You pull out that puzzle you were given as a gift and spill
out the pieces on the kitchen table and realize that it’s one of
those tricky puzzles that doesn’t include the finished picture. You
collect all the edges and start assembling the pieces…similar
colours in a pile…after several hours the picture becomes
clear…you’re looking at a bridge over a seemingly bottomless
canyon and you almost have to squint to see what’s on the other
side. It looks pretty good from here but you want to get to the other
side…there’s a small little sign at the other side of the bridge
but it’s hard to read from where you are, so you go and find the
magnifying glass in the kitchen drawer. On closer inspection you look
at the sign in the picture and it reads "You’re Getting
There…Love, God"…a tear comes to your eye as you realize
this moment might have never come were it not for God’s loving
guidance throughout your life along the way. "Amazing Grace"
comes to mind and you remember a guy named Tom who used to play the
song on the piano when you were in the hospital one time…and you
say thanks to all the angels who came to earth over the years to
guide you along your way…you pray a silent prayer of thanks that
only God and you can hear…you ask God for forgiveness and he points
you to the foot of the cross. You reach inside your pocket and pull
out the little cross you’ve carried around for many years now and
it makes a whole lot more sense. The world keeps turning round like a
fine tuned timepiece, around the sun, around the Milky Way and you
realize that tomorrow is a new chapter in your life story. It’s
time to let go of the past. Yesterday is over. All you ever really
have is the now. No more, no less. Maybe someday you’ll get to
writing that book. God will let you know when and if the time is ever
right. It’s all in His hands. It’s all by His plans now. Amen.