lilac wine. rest ing peace. i'm really sorry.

Lilac Wine

Avant le téléphone , internet , les femmes de soldats partis à la guerre attendaient les lettres de leurs fiancés et maris . Les enfants étaient témoins de leurs angoisses et de leurs larmes ...
Compositeur Arrangeur : Philippe SEGUINARD Auteur Mélodiste : Guillaume DULER
Lyrics :
La guerre c'est le bruit d'une pointe de crayon 
C'est le regard absent dans les yeux de ma mère
C'est une longue attente blanche une prison
Des mots qu'elle lisait des lettres qu'on espère

C'est le son d'un amour à la lumière dansante
C'est le goût de tous les jours , sans saveurs sans saisons
C'est apprendre qu'il y a des choses qui te manquent
Des semaines d'inquiétudes , des rides sur son front

C'est elle enveloppée dans la fumée des cigarettes
Comme dans un nuage porteur de larmes amères
Et puis c'est le silence soudain des nuits défaites
Colmatés d'espérance pour fuir le vent d'hiver 

La guerre c'est savoir qu'elle peut te dénuder
Jusqu'à la moelle d'un père qu'elle t'aura volé
Que les jours qui suivront seront jamais comblés
Que hurleront impitoyable les vents glacés

Before the telephone and the Internet, the wives of soldiers away at war waited for letters from their fiancés and husbands. Children witnessed their anguish and tears ...
Composer and arranger : Philippe SEGUINARD Author and melodist : Guillaume DULER
Lyrics :
War is the sound of a pencil tip 
It's the absent look in my mother's eyes
It's a long white wait in a prison
Words she read Letters we hope for

It's the sound of love in dancing light
It's the taste of every day, without flavors without seasons
It's learning that there are things you miss
Weeks of worry, wrinkles on her forehead

It's her wrapped in cigarette smoke
Like a cloud of bitter tears
And then it's the sudden silence of empty nights
Clogged with hope to escape the winter wind 

War is knowing that it can strip you bare
To the very marrow of a father stolen from you
That the days that follow will never be filled
That the icy winds will howl mercilessly

© Guillaume DULER / Philippe SEGUINARD  2022

La guerre      TRANSLATED

Old school drum & bass house techno. Dedicated to the great underground selector. jaKe. Music & artwork. D.k.A. Spencer

Biodiversity

Company Jogging Funk

Dollar General

Room With a View

No title for this one yet,so all suggestions welcome.

Careless and immortal
Time goes drifting by
Turning full circle
No time to say goodbye

I foolishly imagined
We'd go on and on
I never knew what we had
'Til it was gone

Behold the gift of hindsight
If only we had known
Contempt for our birthright
Trouble is homegrown

I foolishly imagined
We'd go on and on
I never knew what we had
'Til it was gone

Project 27.05.23

MIX/MASTER - Woods Studio
Fog City Fogey - electric guitar, bass, background vocals, production assistance

NOTE: Yup, the C in CW stands for Chris...

LYRIC
The morning mirror can be harsh and cold
You know you’re not young but are you that old?
You need your coffee to really wake up
Maybe that happens around the fifth cup
It’s a new day - brand spanking new
It’ll probably - spank the heck out of you

It’s time to face up to the mess you made
The fools you trusted and the loyal betrayed
You better face up to the mess you made

You tire your brain thinking who to blame
It keeps coming up with the same damn name
There’s so many people who go by Chris
How you supposed to know which one it is
What a puzzle, a conundrum 
Ah come on now, you’re not that dumb

It’s time you own up to the mess you made
The debts accrued and the tax unpaid
It’s time you own up to the mess you made

of things through bad decisions
Sad submissions
Hasty brush offs 
And clumsy overtures
That mess you’re seeing is all yours

Meet a friend at a diner, slide in the booth
It’s time for confession, admit the truth
Eat half her fries, say yeah I’m a wreck
And then you leave her with the check

no one’s thinking you’ll repay a loan
so when you call they mute the phone 
It’ll shock them if you atone

It’s time you face up to the mess you made
You’re no innocent, drop the charade
If your sins had legs it’d be quite the parade
You better face up to the mess you made

Sexagenarian Vol IV

The Mess You Made

sakat(demo)

Get Something Going

Progressive composition at the junction of genres and a great experiment with instruments
https://open.spotify.com/album/0gx9aL3qFniJoeKJGJ5JqO?si=gfgfrIcXQqCODxCXdMF82A
https://www.instagram.com/terra_sapiens/
https://www.facebook.com/terrasapiens/
https://terrasapiens.bandcamp.com/
https://www.youtube.com/c/HomoSapiens3/featured

Terra Sapiens - Der Schwarze Geist

Written and originally recorded by Sam Cooke in 1962.

Arranged and mixed by Brent Knowles in Medellin, Colombia 2020.

Mastered version by Kenny Husted.

All instruments and vocals by Brent Knowles.

Bring It On Home To Me

37 year old musician learning music production and living in Medellin, Colombia. Guitar, bass, piano, lead vocals and harmonies. Frequent collaborations with father Peter Knowles at https://soundcloud.com/peterandbrent.

Bring It On Home To Me

Brent Knowles

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