A cheeky, acoustic-leaning take on barroom chaos and charm. This fireside session version rolls with warm guitar, soft fiddle, and the storytelling spirit of a late-night pint. Told through singable verses and playful wit, it’s mischief with melody — for those who prefer their pub songs with a touch of tenderness and plenty of spilled ale.

[LYRICS]

I punched the jukebox for a jig,
Spilled half me pint on Old Man Briggs.
He cursed, I laughed, then took a bow,
The crowd just roared — they liked it now.

Slipped on a boot that wasn’t mine,
Kissed the wrong lass — said, “You’ll do fine.”
Got slapped so hard I saw the stars,
The band struck up — I missed me bars!

Raise yer mugs and bang the floor!
We’ve all been thrown out once or more!
Love and bruises, rum and sin—
And I’d bloody do it all again!

AND I’D BLOODY DO IT ALL AGAIN!
HEY!

Won a card game with a stolen ace,
Till Maggie’s cousin showed his face.
He swung a stool — I ducked and tripped,
And knocked the barkeep as I slipped.

She spilled gin down me bloody shirt,
Said “Pay me back, you cheeky flirt!”

I grinned, she poured, then said “Alright
Now mop it up — or take a bite!

I said: “Who drank all the bitter, boys?”
“YOU DID, LAD — and made some noise!”
I said: “Who kissed someone’s mum last night?”
“YOU DID, LAD — AND SAID SHE’S RIGHT!”

They chased me round the busted drum,
I hid behind the barmaid’s bum.

She winked, I ducked — we kissed again,
She said, “Next round? You’re buyin’, then.”

Woke up wedged ‘tween stool and door,
Me boots were swapped, me knuckles sore.
A note was pinned to me left thigh:
“You owe three drinks and one black eye.”

The priest walked in with Maggie’s hat—
I said, “She’s not mine! …Well, not like that!”

He prayed, I cursed, then rang the bell
“Let holy water come from hell!”

Raise yer mugs and bang the floor!
We’ve all been thrown out once or more!
Love and bruises, rum and sin—
And I’d bloody do it all again!

And I’d bloody do it all again!
Aye, I’d bloody do it all again!

With me boots, me sins, me grin
I’d bloody do it ALL again!
So fill that pint and count me in!

Hell’s Bells and Empty Barrels

A delicate lo-fi bossa nova piece soaked in restraint and quiet ache. Close-mic female vocals drift through one line per bar, echoing moments of sweetness turned distant. Lo-fi bossa nova forms the soul of the arrangement, led by soft nylon guitar and ambient Rhodes, with downtempo textures guiding its unhurried, cinematic pace. Hints of classic jazz add warmth and familiarity, while subtle inflections of nu-jazz and jazztronica lend a modern edge. With whispered phrasing, spacious pauses, and a clean mix free of vinyl crackle, each stanza becomes a quiet reflection on warmth that lingers just out of reach. A song for stillness, distance, and tender ache—for when you're waiting on something you once felt… or maybe only imagined.
🎧 Listening Instructions (Optional for Artist Notes or Visualizers):
Headphones recommended. Best experienced late at night or early morning. Let each breath and space settle — this track isn’t in a rush.

[Lyrics]

Words like wine, too sweet, too early.
Smiles that bloom, but vanish surely.
Eyes that linger… drift, unending.
They fade away…

Still I sip, and keep on waiting.
Both pretend, and both still craving.
Silence hums… and holds no meaning.
No feeling…

Shadows stretch, across the table.
Still we Sit, Resigned, and Able.
Meaning Slips… beneath the silence.
Too vague to label…

Chair sat filled. But souls feel vacant.
The tea gone cold, the air complacent.
What was Warm… Now barely traces.
Not, adjacent…

Still, waiting. On the bittersweet.
Still, waiting… For the bittersweet.

Waiting on the Bittersweet

The Clock Forgot to Chime is a delicate lo-fi bossa nova track that floats through soft breath, empty air, and the heaviness of a moment lost. With nylon guitar, ambient textures, and close-mic female vocals, it captures a space between presence and memory. The ticking fades. The chime never comes. And still, someone waits. A song for still afternoons, rainy glass, and the hush between thoughts. Clean mix. No vinyl crackle.

[LYRICS]

Rain on glass and time grows heavy
The lamp glows dim beside the window
When the light fades… all that lingers
Is breath

Oh, but I sit and keep waiting
How do I name what is missing?
I would reach out… but air is empty
And still I sit alone in the hush

The room stays still, lost in shadow
No breath, no breeze, no new echo
A quiet hangs, just out of rhythm
Then… it fades

Oh, but I sit and keep waiting
How do I name what is missing?
I would reach out… but air is empty
The clock forgot to chime

The clock… forgot to chime.

The Clock Forgot to Chime

Lost in Thought… or Found There? blends lo-fi bossa nova with the fluid warmth of jazz and the soft polish of adult contemporary. It’s a meditation in motion — a suspended moment of watching, wondering, and never quite knowing. Whispered female vocals float over nylon guitar and gentle Rhodes, wrapped in ambient hush. She isn’t trying to be seen — but in her stillness, everything slows. This is music for introspection, quiet love, and late afternoons that never end.

[LYRICS]

Each time the light
Falls through the trees
It finds her shape
In drifting leaves

She sits so still
By window’s line
She blinks, then turns—
Like lost in time

She’s not aware
Of glances cast
A thought, a breath—
That moment passed

And still I watch
Each time she sways
I ask myself—
Is that her way?

Why do the softest things
Move so deep?
Why do the ones who float
Never sleep?

She isn’t trying
To be seen
But in her quiet—
There’s everything

She stands and leaves
A breath, a trace
It’s not perfume—
It’s simply grace

And every time
She walks on through
I lose my thoughts
To something true

Lost in thought…

Lost in Thought… or Found There?

A soft-spoken ballad about presence, distance, and the quiet gravity of someone who never fully arrives. With brushed snares, nylon guitar, and whisper-close vocals, “The Way She Turns (Like Tides)” drifts between memory and acceptance. Minimalist and poetic, it blends singer-songwriter intimacy with soft rock textures and jazz-infused restraint. For late-night reflection, slow mornings, or the silence after a voice fades.

[LYRICS]

She stirs the air like quiet rain,
No promise made, no clear refrain.
She smiles like jazz in candlelight,
Then fades into the softest night.

Her voice, a tide that pulls, then leaves
It hums between the autumn eaves.
No weight, no storm—just echo’s trace,
A passing warmth you can’t replace.

She turns, she turns—
Not toward, not away.
She stays, she stays—
Where shadows sway.

I sip the space she used to fill,
A silent room that lingers still.
And if she calls, I won’t reply
But I’ll listen as the coffee dries.

The Way She Turns (Like Tides)

A hushed, close-mic confession wrapped in nylon guitar and ambient hush. “This Way, If You Mean It” drifts between indie pop vulnerability and singer-songwriter clarity, with folk rock warmth in its acoustic textures. Subtle harmonies and soft percussion trace the emotional map to someone’s quiet heart — no drama, just the invitation to step carefully through the silence. For moments that feel like waiting with the light still on.

[LYRICS]

The door clicks twice, then gently shuts
Shoes by the mat— no need for fuss
Light’s down low, one lamp is lit
Just follow silence— if you fit

Left at the photo torn in two
The one I held just out of view
Then past the books I never lend
Through rooms that never seem to end

This way, if you really mean it
Come close enough for me to feel it
Step gently where the hush begins
It matters how you come within

This way, if you really mean it
Don’t chase the light— just try to keep it
I don’t answer loud displays
Only truth in quiet ways

I keep the light turned low on purpose
I’ve nothing hidden past the surface
No white lies, no things to prove
Just feel the space before you move

Come on in, the path is drawn
And if you find the light left on
You’re closer than the rest have gone
You’re closer than the rest have gone

This Way, If You Mean It

“Nothing to Sweep” is a sparse and haunting indie rock ballad, brushed with dream pop softness and indie pop restraint. Close-mic female vocals whisper over nylon guitar and soft Rhodes, unfolding in clean symmetry and subdued ache. The arrangement is grounded in lo-fi sensibilities but carries the emotional clarity of folk rock and the introspective shimmer of alternative pop.
A song for after everything is cleaned away—yet something still lingers.

Stylistically: think Indie Rock introspection, Indie Pop precision, Dream Pop atmosphere, with a folk-style lyrical honesty and a dusting of ambient minimalism.

[LYRICS]

The floor’s been cleared, no rugs to shake
No plates still set for habit’s sake
No dust along the hallway trim
Just quiet where the echoes dim

The pictures hang in lines too straight
You’d never guess they once held weight
What lingered once has left no trace
Just open air and empty space

There’s nothing left to sweep
No corners holding grief
No quiets out of reach
No truths I failed to teach

There’s nothing left to find
No signs you read as mine
I’ve folded every crease
And still- I get no peace

I used to leave the kettle on
A hint of “maybe” just till dawn
But now the shelf is bare, you see
No cups, no want, no “wait for me”

I dusted every room for keeps
Still something in the silence creeps
Still something in the silence creeps
Some things still echo in the deep
When there’s nothing left to sweep

There’s nothing left to sweep.

Nothing left to sweep.

Nothing to Sweep

A heartfelt folk ballad inspired by the poem Fold the Day Like Linen Fine by Dikheel Aldikheel, reimagined with traditional acoustic instrumentation and lyrical reverence. This adaptation blends Celtic musical phrasing with classic folk sensibility, and carries the clarity and emotional maturity of adult contemporary storytelling. Performed in a timeless neo-folk style with a gentle pulse and melodic grace, it honors the poem’s call to rise gently, carry forward with hope, and rest in quiet strength. This is not a Bottom o’ the Barrel shanty — it’s a tribute piece, a moment of stillness wrapped in melody.

Guitar, fiddle, and soft harmonies anchor the arrangement, evoking a fireside performance among friends. No theatrics — just sincerity, spirit, and song.

[LYRICS]

Rise, O soul, before the day
The robins sing the dark away
The river waits in silver light
Beneath the edge of fading night

Go walk where bending grasses lean
And let the hush bring something clean
A quiet truth you always knew
May rise and walk the path with you

No need to chase the sun
What’s meant for you will come
Let silence keep its place
There’s stillness you can face

Let softness be your guide
And time drift like the tide
What moves, will move again
No need to ask just when

Sit near the stream that hums and flows
Where even pain can start to doze
Let stillness speak what words can't say
Then gently let it slip away

The bird lifts off with no regret
And takes the sky with no safety net
It leaves no weight upon the ground
Just air, and peace, and not a sound
When nothing holds you down

Rise, O soul

Nothing holds you down.

Rise, O Soul - A Folk Tribute to Fold the Day Like Linen Fine

“The Dealbreaker” is a smooth and sultry blend of Contemporary R&B and Neo-Soul, weaving sharp lyrical wit through velvety harmonies and a slow-burning groove. Anchored in a soulful rhythm section and drenched in Rhodes textures, the track plays like a late-night conversation between power and surrender. Hints of retro soul add warmth and nostalgia, while modern phrasing and vocal interplay keep the energy intimate but cutting. It’s the sound of a contract undone — softly, skillfully, and with no regret.

[LYRICS]

Mmm…
I had a plan.
A line. A wall.
Then you just…
looked up — and that was all.

Pressed and polished, every edge tight.
Spoke like the terms were black and white.
My suit said “strict,” my voice said “clear” —
But one look from you, and I forgot why I was here.

Walked in late, just floating slow.
You stared too long — now you let it show.
I crossed my leg, you missed your cue…
One blink, and baby — I had you.

I rehearsed a hundred ways to say no…
But I just smiled — and let it go.
You should have come with firewalls built
But darling, charm does not carry guilt.

It was the wink that broke the deal.
No terms, no talk, no time to feel.
You got me open, signed me blind
Now I am yours, and I do not mind.

Forget the fine print, lose the seal.
You touched my hand and closed it real.
I came in sharp, I am leaving soft…
It was that wink… that wrote me off.

Had charts and walls, and every fact…
Just wore red lips and knew the cracks.
I built defenses, bold and clean
Then crossed the room and split the scene.
I thought I would walk out sharp and sealed
But baby, some deals do not stay real.
You raised your brow, I lost my ground.
You called me trouble… then stuck around.
I tried to renegotiate
But sugar, please — it is far too late.

It was the wink that broke the deal.
You turned my logic into feel.
I dropped the script, I missed the cue —
And now my closing line is you.
Forget the fine print, let it slide.
You win, love — now I will sign with pride.
That kiss, that glance… that final steal —
It was that wink…
That sealed the deal.

Some deals are not signed with pen or seal…
Just a look…
And now it is real.

The Dealbreaker (Extended Version) Contemporary R&B Neo-Soul

“The Dealbreaker” is a smooth and sultry blend of Contemporary R&B and Neo-Soul, weaving sharp lyrical wit through velvety harmonies and a slow-burning groove. Anchored in a soulful rhythm section and drenched in Rhodes textures, the track plays like a late-night conversation between power and surrender. Hints of retro soul add warmth and nostalgia, while modern phrasing and vocal interplay keep the energy intimate but cutting. It’s the sound of a contract undone — softly, skillfully, and with no regret.

[LYRICS]

Mmm…
I had a plan.
A line. A wall.
Then you just…
looked up — and that was all.

Pressed and polished, every edge tight.
Spoke like the terms were black and white.
My suit said “strict,” my voice said “clear”
But one look from you, and I forgot why I was here.

Walked in late, just floatin’ slow.
You watched too long — now you let it show.
I crossed my leg, you missed your cue…
One blink, and baby — I had you.

I rehearsed a hundred ways to say no…
But I just smiled — and let it go.
You should’ve come with firewalls built
But darling, charm don’t carry guilt.

It was the wink that broke the deal
No terms, no talk, no time to feel
You got me open, signed me blind
Now I’m yours — and I don’t mind

Forget the fine print, lose the seal
You touched my hand, and closed the deal
I came in sharp, I’m leavin’ soft
It was that wink… that wrote me off

Some things sign themselves… no need to seal.

That wink was real.

The Dealbreaker (Radio Edit) Contemporary R&B Neo-Soul Retro Soul

I’ve always lived at the crossroads of music and poetry — where feeling becomes form, and melody turns memory into meaning. Whether it’s a lingering jazz note, a well-placed rhyme, or a shift in tempo that tells a deeper story, I’m drawn to that quiet magic where art reflects life with a little more style.

My roots are in classic music — the kind that doesn’t chase the moment but lingers with you long after the last note. Over time, that love expanded into poetry writing and jazz — especially the kind that swings, speaks, and smirks all at once. Jazz, to me, isn’t just a genre; it’s a personality. A conversation. A little tilt of the head and a grin that knows more than it says.

When I set out to create an album, it’s rarely just a collection of songs. I approach it like a personal playlist — one that drifts and flows as if the entire tracklist were one long, uninterrupted piece. Each track leans into the next, shifting mood, pace, or voice, but always carrying the same thread of feeling. I want you to listen the way I do — not as a shuffle of moments, but as a cinematic arc. One breath that lasts an hour.

Lyrically, my work is rooted in lived experience. Sometimes it’s obvious. Other times it’s just the skeleton of a memory, dressed up in wit, irony, or longing. I draw from real-life events, then let the poet in me twist, stretch, or sweeten them to taste. Depending on the tone of the album — playful, romantic, nostalgic, or something in between — I try to keep the emotional truth intact while giving it a fresh coat of creativity. A little humor where it fits. A deeper dive where it hurts.

My newest jazz album continues this tradition — short-lined swing tracks, conversational duets, and tongue-in-cheek storytelling. It’s an homage to late-night alleyway ballads, rooftop serenades, and train station goodbyes — all bound together with a sense of charm and cohesion. Each song is its own little scene, but together they tell a story — one you can revisit with each replay.

Thanks for stopping by my profile. I hope you find something that earns a spot on your repeat-play list — a melody, a lyric, or a moment that feels like it was written just for you.

This Way, If You Mean It

Dikheel Aldikheel

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