Reflections

A haunting minimalist ballad built from fragments of night—rain on glass, streetlight bleeding on the floor, a key scraping the lock. Every word is deliberate. Every silence speaks. “Last Light” is a plea you can carry in your chest long after the music fades.

Last Light

A luminous acoustic-pop ballad about finding the meaning of life in the quietest moments.
From rain-soaked streets to kettle steam in the kitchen, “Between Breaths” reminds us that love is where life truly lives.

Between Breaths

A cinematic story song about chance, restraint, and redemption—set on a late-night bus where a stranger’s quiet wisdom changes everything. “Read the Table” blends acoustic warmth with modern storytelling, capturing the moment between losing control and finding clarity.

Read the Table

For my father-in-law, who was unfortunately taken from us far too early at the beginning of the year. Rest in peace. And for my wife. 2025.

In_Memory_of...

“Concrete Psalm” is a New York City hymn about small mercies and hard-won belonging. It follows one night beneath a bridge: shared bread, steam off the grates, a piano rolled into the rain, strangers forming a choir. Arrangement: upright piano, nylon guitar, floor-tom heartbeat, handclaps, and a modest vocal crew. The hook is simple on purpose: teach my heart to move like your streets. May it meet you on your way home.

Concrete Psalm

Quiet Storm That Sings is about the moment you stop fighting the noise inside and let stillness take over. The verses live in small apartment details — the hum in the vents, keys ringing like tiny bells, rain tracing the window, and the city breathing in time with you. As the song builds, the quiet becomes its own choir. The chorus carries surrender as revelation: “There’s a quiet storm that sings / when I stop fighting everything.” Each section mirrors that shift — the shoulders unclenching, the air moving through open blinds, the war in the jaw dissolving. By the bridge, the running ends; the hum becomes home.

Quiet Storm That Sings

"We're a Crime Scene" is a haunting, cinematic indie-rock track exploring the chilling aftermath of a vanished love. It's a "domestic noir"—a forensic examination of a breakup, where every mundane object becomes a clue in the silent crime scene of a shared life. A restless energy underpins the desolate beauty.

We're a Crime Scene

"Gonna Be Alright" is a powerful, apocalyptic folk anthem that confronts the fragility of man-made empires and the enduring truth of the elemental world. With a voice like a modern-day prophet, it weaves a narrative from the distant rumble of societal collapse to a deeply personal reckoning, ultimately finding solace in the destruction of everything false. It's a journey through the storm, reminding us that sometimes, 'the losing is the mercy.'

Gonna Be Alright

Look Up is a gentle nudge to put the phone down and remember the real face across the room. Cold dinners, unread books, unused guitars—and the freckles and laugh-lines you only see when you finally look up.

Look Up

“Running After Me” is a modern worship ballad about the God who refuses to walk away when we’re hiding in the corners, taped together and out of words to pray. It’s for the nights when the silence is screaming and the pressure feels too heavy to carry. This song leans into the promise that His love has already paid the debt and still comes running through our chaos with a fierce, unending grace. Turn it up, close your eyes, and let the lyrics remind you: He hasn’t stopped pursuing you yet.

Running After Me

CYBER CHORD writes songs the way a porch light holds a night: small, steady, and impossible to ignore. I work with AI as a true co-writer, then carve the lyric by hand and shape the track in Suno. The sound leans bare and human—country roots in the soil, a little rock grain in the teeth, and a faith-lit lift that chooses hope without preaching.

These are ordinary-room hymns: rings hidden in cotton, receipt-tape strings, a dress behind rain glass, a sink that cools while you find the words. Silence is an instrument here; sometimes there’s a full bar where the house gets to breathe. If a line can’t survive a campfire and a cracked mug, it doesn’t make the song.

If you’re new, start with the heartbreakers. They don’t shout. They stay. I believe in the holiness of the everyday, and in the quiet bravery of saying the thing before “later” takes it away.

No paid promo, no playlist buys, no cover-art pitches, no dance offers, no cold DMs. If it’s a pitch, the porch light’s off. If you’re a real listener, come in soft: pick one song, leave a genuine note (lyric or timestamp welcome), and hand it to one friend. That’s how this fire stays lit.

May your road stay open, your coffee stay warm, and your day be peaceful.

Running After Me

Cyber Chord

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