Written by Noel Kharman
Produced by Khalid Mustafa 
Video by Mohammad Al-Sheikh

I Am Just A Kid غمض عينك

وحين تصبح الحروف عاجزةً عن مواساتك ، يأتي البكاء كأبجدية أخرى يتنفس بها المرء لكنها لاتُكتب.

مَزجْ|| لَو كانْ بُكاءاً لَبكينا لَكنهُ أَكثر.

Ah Yalalali  اه يالالي  - GuitaNai جيتاناي

(Verse 1)

There’s a sadness with no meaning,
No reason I can name.
There’s an emptiness that waits for fill,
For more words and phrases to tame.

(Chorus)
Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel the spark,
A reason to light the softer parts.
Even the stillness has things to teach—
A turn of phrase or a part of speech.

(Verse 2)
I don't know who I am fooling,
I’m not being lazy, not sighing or deep—
I’m not sure that what I am writing
Is something that I want to keep.

(Chorus)
Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel the spark,
A reason to light the softer parts.
Even the stillness has things to teach—
A turn of phrase, a part of speech.

(Verse 3)
Should I want someone to see?
Do they want to see more of me?
This stillness wraps too tight for me—
It’s strangling the voice I used to be.

(Bridge)
I am falling, and I’m not fine.
Just slipping past the warning signs.
Not hurt enough to call it sprained—
And too much numb to feel the pain.

(Chorus)
Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel the spark,
A reason to light the softer parts.
Even the stillness has things to teach—
A turn of phrase or a part of speech.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll feel the spark,
A reason to light the softer parts.
Even the stillness has things to teach—
A turn of phrase or a part of speech.

Is it in my head or under my nose?
I need to think, try to compose.
I'll land a worded beauty—
And write the perfect prose.

There’s still so much waiting to be exposed.

***** Description *****

Blank Paper is a quiet confession, sung in a voice that is warm, weary, and searching. It drifts like smoke around the edges of thought, capturing the ache of a writer staring into silence, waiting for words that refuse to arrive. The verses move with gentle honesty, admitting doubt, fatigue, and the stranglehold of stillness, while the chorus holds onto a fragile hope—that perhaps tomorrow, inspiration will return.

Musically, it belongs to the intimate world of a Norah Jones–style ballad—soft, close, unadorned, the kind of song that feels like it’s being whispered across a kitchen table at midnight. There’s no grand flourish, only the tender persistence of someone who has carried words their whole life, now wrestling with their absence.

The cover reflects this essence: a wavering, glowing page, out of focus, not yet written on—symbolizing both the emptiness and the potential.

At its heart, Blank Paper is less about despair than about vulnerability. It is the sound of being suspended between silence and expression, knowing that even the struggle to write is its own kind of truth.

Blank Paper

Id Go Back To Yesterday Years To See You Again

He called me his Georgia Pie…
But I was  city born, so I’d wonder why…
He played that harp like a summer sunrise…
Me with my guitar, just trying to try…
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
We met by the river, no stage, no lights
Just a patch of shade and a day done right
I was scribbling verses, chasing a tune
He came drifting in like a breeze in June
Didn’t speak a word, but he played so clear
Notes like stories I needed to hear
His harmonica danced with my strumming hand
And suddenly, I could understand
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
He called me sweet like a southern breeze
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
But I was Brooklyn born, wild and free
Still I sang with him, side by side
The best thing I ever heard in life
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
He played the truth without a plea
He couldn’t speak, not in words or sound
But his melodies spun the world around
He’d nod and hum, then let it fly
A tune that made the pine trees sigh
I asked him once, “Why Georgia Pie?”
He smiled and played a lullaby
I never got the answer clear
But I felt it deep, like music near
He was the verse I couldn’t write
The chord that made the wrong feel right
He was the hush before the storm
The fire that kept my fingers warm
He was the echo in the breeze
The song that brought me to my knees
He was the pie I couldn’t bake
But still I sang for heaven’s sake
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
He called me sweet like a southern breeze
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
But I was city  born, wild and free
Still I sang with him, side by side
The best thing I ever heard in life
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
He played the truth without a plea
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
He disappeared like a morning mist…
But left a song I still resist…
Georgia Pie… Georgia Pie…
The best thing I ever heard in me…

🌹Thanks to the players from H.C. and Del's studio

All Rights held by songwriter Edwin H. Balder.

Be sure to visit Tina's playlist here:
soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/tina-talone-may-this-kind-of?si=c962a19838244cafab03c08ba110c75f&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

And Tina's new music video here:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TZvNm4nfdQ

Georgia Pie by 🌹Tina Talone🌹

(طارق الناصر و فرقة رم- روحي يا روح (مسلسل ليس سرابا

جزء من مسرحية "شلبي جميل  الحلو" التي لم ترى النور بعد
كلمات والحان: كرم خلف
اخر مرة قالتلي غني يا حبيبي
ولما تذيق فيك هالعتمة
غني يا حبيبي
ولما أغيب عنكم ع طول
غنيلي كلماتي
وحب الناس
وبيع الورد بالكرم يا حبيبي

شايفتيني من هالسما؟
من ما ودعتيني وانا
ببيع الورد للمنسيين
تا تنبسطي وترظي عليي

بعت وردة لإم, حطتها بمزهرية
بتسقيها لما تحن, لولدها بالبحرية
وأخرى وردة لشب, زرعها بتربة برّية
وسقاها لما حب, يتذكرها شوية
شايفتيني من هالسما؟
من ما ودعتيني وانا
ببيع الورد للمنسيين
تا تنبسطي وترظي عليي
شايفتيني من هالسما؟ 
من ما ودعتيني وانا
بسقي بدموعي الورد
حتو روحك تظل فرحانة
حتى انت تظلي ع بالي

Shalabi Jameel El Helew

Shayeftini Min Hal Sama | شايفتيني من هالسما؟

جئت تريد القلب - سميح شقير

مديح الظل العالي

الخرافية مريم صالح تغرد وهبت عمري للأمل على نغم العود للعظيم عماد حشيشو.

I Am Just A Kid غمض عينك

Ahmed Yahya

Recent comments

mohammed jamal

Related tracks