Feel

Título: “Mai (Para Siempre Tati)”
Letra original por Wil Díaz
🎙️ Balada sentimental con música y voz generada por IA (solo para fines de demostración)

Una canción que nace del amor más puro y eterno: el de un hijo hacia su madre.
"Mai" es una palabra sencilla, pero en mi casa lo decía mi padre con un cariño que lo decía todo.
Esta balada es mi forma de rendir homenaje a mi madre, una mujer que lo dio todo con amor y dignidad, y también a mi padre, quien al llamarla "Mai" la hacía eterna.

Es un tributo lleno de nostalgia, gratitud y sentimientos que trascienden el tiempo.
Para todos los que aún sienten la voz de su madre en el corazón… esta canción es para ustedes.

Mai (Para Siempre Tati)

I opened the door — did I even think?
Of stories carved in every link?
Or was I just cold, or tired, or numb,
Dreaming of silence, a bed to succumb?
A nice old carpet, soft and proud,
Long halls where whispers aren’t too loud.
Each door I passed could hold a tale,
But only silence marked the trail.

No footsteps, no voices, no clinking plates,
Just time standing still behind the gates.
Born in peace, yet built on ash —
You breathed in slow, with quiet flash.

🎶 1922 — and winter’s at the door,
He doesn’t knock, he’s heard before.
With leaves still clinging, cold and thin,
And something strange beneath the skin.
1922 — I felt your spine,
Old wooden bones in fading shine.
I came for sleep, I stayed for lore —
1922, with winter at the door. 🎶

Rapallo ink still wet with trust,
And Walther fell into the dust.
Insulin saved, the Irish cried,
While quiet hands built you with pride.
Mussolini rose, raw goods ran dry,
But still you reached toward the sky.
Brick by brick, you took your stand,
A shelter shaped by human hand.

What did I want? A pillow, a prayer?
Just steam on glass and cleaner air?
But I found a century dressed in dust,
And walls that whisper: “feel, don’t trust.”

🎶 1922 — and winter’s at the door,
He waits like he has waited before.
A suitcase packed with frost and light,
And stories hidden from the night.
1922 — you held me tight,
Through autumn’s end and morning white.
And when I left, I knew much more —
1922, with winter at the door. 🎶

It was a sunny morning. But cold.
He stood there.
Winter.
Not unkind. Not loud.
With surprises in his bag.
But spring came,
and one by one...
they melted.
And in the summer… they were gone.

1922 (Deep House Version)

Some girls are, what can I say? Like a gold digger. ;-)

Gold digger

D&D RECORDS Official YouTube channel
www.youtube.com/channel/UCpnIbcD9xmXYmNWMbeivRRw

Don't Shoot Me

inside

neon bruises

11. Taste

Written, Recorded & Produced by TJ Real ✪
Copyright ©️ TJ Real ✪ All Rights Reserved.

I am an unsigned independent artist in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada.
All my music has been self recorded and produced in my home studio.

I have been writing since a young teen, with over 500 songs written.
The music I write and record comes from a very deep place within me.
It is based off my own experiences in this crazy and beautiful world.
When I am composing I push to create an emotional feel and connection. 

I really hope you can connect and feel my music just as much as I do.
Thank you for taking the time to listen, even if you don't like it.

Peace, Love and Happiness to all of you.
-TJ Real ✪

Slip Away

Last night

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCi1Sclk7eCiSF1g21qEABHw

14. Água Viva

D&D RECORDS Official YouTube channel
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpnIbcD9xmXYmNWMbeivRRw

Don't Shoot Me

D&D RECORDS

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