A cheeky Northern pub ballad about one pint, one lass, and one unforgettable night.
She came swingin’ in with boots untied... and nothing was ever the same.
Set in a village with heart, trouble, and just enough charm to make a man stay.

[LYRICS]

To town I came with no plan grand  
For peace, a pint, and village band.  
Took the lane for quiet grace  
Then Maggie tore up the place.

This lass Maggie came swingin’ through,  
With boots untied and trouble due.  
She gave the room her greetin’ glance,  
A nod, a wink, a half-done dance-

She caught my eye and held it still,  
A stranger’s face, a fresher thrill.  
She looked me over, head to heel,  
Then wandered up to strike a deal.

She laughed like sin and danced like grace,  
No thought, no pause, no savin’ face.  
One wink, one cheer, and all gave chase-
Then Maggie tore up the place.

I thought it banter, light and plain-
A village flirt, a drinkin’ game.  
A wee bit more than I’d ignore,  
As grins gave way to something more.

She laughed like sin and danced like grace,  
No thought, no pause, no savin’ face.  
One wink, one cheer, and all gave chase-
Then Maggie tore up the place.

Turns out this lass, all boots and flair,  
Spends her days with chalk and stare.  
A teacher wranglin’ bairns and lads,  
Who swaps the bell for pints and chats.

P’rhaps my peace was wrongly sought-
A bit o’ wild is what I ought.  
If trouble wears a smile that wide,  
I’ll chase it 'til she’s by my side.

So Maggie, lass, don’t slip away-
I reckon I’ll make home and stay.

She laughed like sin and danced like grace,  
No thought, no pause, no savin’ face.  
One wink, one cheer, and all gave chase-
Then Maggie tore up the place.

She laughed like sin and danced like grace,  
No thought, no pause, no savin’ face.  
One wink, one cheer, and all gave chase-
Then Maggie tore up the place.
  
O Maggie, lass, don’t slip away-
I reckon I’ll make home and stay.

When the Lass Maggie Tore Up the Place – A Pub Tale of Pints, Trouble and Grace

This is just one of dozens of unique reimaginings of “Match My Pace.” Each version takes the original studio release and reshapes it into a new flavor — drawing from global traditions, theatrical twists, ambient moods, or bold experimental edges. Together, they form a palette of sounds where no two are the same. Go through them all, discover the ones that speak to you most, and let the flavors that lift you give you the boost you need.

[LYRICS]

On my mark now… 
Get set, let’s go…

Stay on the beat, and match my pace
Match my pace
Don’t slow down, we’re in the race
In the race
Step in close, I feel the fire
Feel the fire
Take it higher, Take it higher
Take it higher

Line in the room, the rhythm’s alive
Pull in the air, it keeps us in drive
Weight on my back just fades away
Your look sparks heat, I can’t delay
Mmm… baby…

Count it down, I’m on your line
Pull me faster, we cross in time
Turn me in your embrace

Stay on the beat, and match my pace
Match my pace
Don’t slow down, we’re in the race
In the race
Step in close, I feel the fire
Feel the fire
Take it higher, Take it higher
Take it higher

Hands to the side, the night runs deep
Your touch is a spark I want to keep
Every move pulls me straight to you
The floor lights up with every cue
Oh no no no…

On my mark now… get set, let’s go…

Door at the side, you lead me through
I step inside, the world feels new
Closer still… the night we face

Stay on the beat, and match my pace
Match my pace
Don’t slow down, we’re in the race
In the race
Step in close, I feel the fire
Feel the fire
Take it higher, Take it higher
Take it higher

Said I was cool, but watch me sway…
Green lights hit, I’m on my way…
You lean, I turn, we run, we stay…
Yeah…

I said I’m cool… but not today…

I said I’m cool… get set, let’s play…

On my mark now…
Get set, let’s go…

Match My Pace (Bollywood Spiced) Indie Dance Pop • Contemporary • Retro

Match My Pace (Balkan Spiced) Indie Dance Pop • Contemporary • Retro

This version of Hello Fire Goodbye Pain was reshaped for Lines That Cut Both Ways. Where the original leaned into stadium chants and power, this version pulls everything close: acoustic textures, emotional vocals, and quiet strength. It belongs here as a moment of release within the album’s story — a spark that survives the ashes, a reminder that even in heartbreak there is resilience. This is the intimate cut, the whispered truth, and the song that trades fire’s roar for its quiet glow.

[LYRICS]

Turn it down, the night is near,
Hello fire, I feel you here.
Nothing left I need to hide,
I’m all set now, I’ve survived.

Hello fire, goodbye pain,
A quiet spark that still remains.
Hello fire, soft and true,
A light to guide me back to you.

Ashes fade but leave their mark,
Lessons written in the dark.
Every scar becomes a sign,
Of what was lost and what is mine.

Hello fire, goodbye pain,
A quiet spark that still remains.
Hello fire, soft and true,
A light to guide me back to you.

Whisper low, don’t turn away,
Carry me through the break of day.
Even shadows learn to bend,
Every wound can find its end.

Hello fire, goodbye pain,
A quiet spark that still remains.
Hello fire, burning slow,
The only truth I’ve come to know.

Hello Fire (Intimate Version) • Singer-Songwriter • Adult Contemporary • Neo-Folk

A heartfelt tribute to Polish legend Stanisław Sojka, who left us in August 2025. This English reimagination of Tolerancja preserves the reflective spirit of his 2016 performances, arranged with piano, acoustic guitar, warm electric bass, brushed drums, light ride cymbal touches, subtle tambourine shimmer, and violin swells. The result is a folk-rock ballad with jazz-inflected harmonies and a tender, soulful atmosphere — honoring a timeless voice of empathy and humanity.

For those who speak Polish and know the original, I ask for grace in the poetic liberties I’ve taken with the English lyrics. Every effort has been made to remain faithful to Sojka’s message, even as the words have been reshaped to sing naturally in another tongue.

[LYRICS]

Why don’t we speak of wounds that ache, in plain?
To build up walls around the heart’s in vain.
A gentle word, a hand upon my skin,
At times that’s all I crave, all I seek within

For mercy’s sake,
Life’s not a thing to only take.
Life’s not to drift in endless wait,
To truly live, your soul must dedicate.

Your cares and mine, our fights, the world’s affairs,
As hairs upon the head are numbered, so our days
Let the faultless be the first to cast the stone,
For far from Paradise is where they stand alone.

For mercy’s sake,
Life’s not a thing to only take.
Life’s not to drift in endless wait,
To truly live, your soul must dedicate.

Tolerancja • English Tribute Reimagined (In Memory of Stanisław Sojka) • Tolerance

This track begins with a raw a cappella delivery before opening into a full instrumental arrangement — a “hybrid a cappella” reimagination of Stanisław Sojka’s timeless Tolerancja. Performed in English, it carries forward his message of empathy and humanity with a new voice while honoring the heart of the original. Piano, acoustic guitar, warm bass, brushed drums, light ride cymbal, tambourine shimmer, and violin swells join the vocal to build depth and warmth.

For Polish listeners, I ask grace for the poetic liberties in translation. Every effort was made to stay faithful to Sojka’s intent, even as the words were reshaped to flow in English.

[LYRICS]

Why don’t we speak of wounds that ache, in plain?
To build up walls around the heart’s in vain.
A gentle word, a hand upon my skin,
At times that’s all I crave, all I seek within

For mercy’s sake,
Life’s not a thing to only take.
Life’s not to drift in endless wait,
To truly live, your soul must dedicate.

Your cares and mine, our fights, the world’s affairs,
As hairs upon the head are numbered, so our days
Let the faultless be the first to cast the stone,
For far from Paradise is where they stand alone.

For mercy’s sake,
Life’s not a thing to only take.
Life’s not to drift in endless wait,
To truly live, your soul must dedicate.

Tolerance • Hybrid A Cappella (English Tribute to Tolerancja)

“Sugar & Steam” leans into a classic bossa nova backbone with contemporary vocal intimacy and jazz-flavored harmony. The pace is unhurried and downtempo, the palette is nylon guitar, upright bass, brushed kit, and a gentle shaker, with the lyric tracing a playful café ritual that turns into a quiet yes. Think modern lounge warmth with a songwriter’s focus on clear storytelling.

If you like intimate bossa and soft-jazz textures with a simple, romantic arc, this is made for late mornings and late nights alike.

[LYRICS]

I push the door the morning spins,
There you stand behind the tins.
Eyes like amber, soft and free,
I lose my words, you’re all I see.

You lean and ask “the same as ever?”
That gentle voice too smooth, too clever.
I nod too quick, my breath held tight,
What I mean is you, if that’s alright.

You sketch a heart as if in play,
Then you write my name, real thick.
It makes me blink, in a quiet way,
I try to speak but words won’t stick.

You turn to brew my morning fix,
The steam rolls high in swirl and mix.
But what I crave is only you,
You’re all I need, not just the brew.

You ask how sweet, surprise me
The crowd drifts off, the counter’s free.
You lift and smile, a gentle gleam,
Then brush my wrist and pass the steam.

Warm and bright the steam still rising,
Behind the counter you keep smiling.

And when you touch me,
I breathe and start to smile too…

I just had to smile too…
Oh, I had to smile too…
Yes — I smiled with you too…

Sugar & Steam - A Bossa Nova Romance at Café Bossa • Jazz • Contemporary

A concert aria written in the operatic tradition, expanding on the lyrical theme of “No Man’s Heart Aches Forever.” This work stands apart from its earlier folk-ballad incarnation, reimagined here as an epic lament and vow of endurance. The piece explores anguish and determination through shifting tonal landscapes, lyrical manipulation, and thematic transition. Neither purely opera nor folk, it belongs to an experimental cycle that bridges chamber music, aria form, and modern expressive narrative.

[LYRICS]

I held through night’s unspoken storm,
wrote down your name in every flame.
Time seemed to halt—its breath was warm
yet love stayed mute when called by name.
The clocks cried out against the moon;
I begged the stars to change their tune…

But even sorrow learns a thread
that loosens gently as it’s led;
a melody beneath the pain
that softens, drifting like the rain.
And something quiet in the air
begins to teach the heart to bear

No man’s heart aches forever,
though it may break each day;
the storms will pass, the skies grow brighter,
and pain will drift away.

I watched the tide deny the shore,
the shadow cross the bedroom door;
I learned to breathe in broken light,
to nurse a spark through longest night.
If grief must come, then let it speak—
I will not bend, but I’ll be meek.
For still a mercy moves like dawn,
and finds the world it falls upon.

No man’s heart aches forever,
though midnight begs it stay;
the thunder fades, the hush grows wiser,
and pain is swept away.

So let the night be gentler now,
let silence keep its patient vow;
the breath I lost returns at last—
a smaller grief, a larger vast.
I do not ask the stars to lie;
I learn instead to let them shine.

No man’s heart aches forever,
though it may feel that way;
for even grief surrenders slowly
to dawn’s forgiving ray.

I stand, I breathe, I mend, I rise—
I lift my gaze to brighter skies;
What broke by night by day is mended,
the song resumes where sorrow ended.
Beat after beat, the heart learns how:
it breaks and yet it keeps its vow.

No heart breaks on forever!
No darkness owns the day!
The storm that tried to name me
has washed its name away.
No heart breaks on forever!
I claim the living way—
the light returns, the pulse remembers,
and pain is borne away.

So let the dawn be soft and sure,
let every wound turn less and pure;
for where the night once learned to stay,
the morning asks to lead the way.
No man’s heart aches forever…
The clocks fall quiet—
the heart keeps time… and stays.

A3-S2 No Man’s Heart Aches Forever – Aria da Concerto

A baritone aria da concerto that transforms the Teddington folk ballad into a tragic operatic epic. Blending chamber orchestra, dark lyricism, and folk-rooted imagery, the piece unfolds from hushed recitativo into storm-driven cabaletta, before closing in a hushed moral coda. Pride, love, betrayal, and fate collide in a performance that bridges folk tradition with operatic power.

[LYRICS]

A holiday, the skies were pale;
I crossed the sea with heart grown frail.
To Teddington I came to rest,
With questions heavy in my chest.

A Duke walked slow through river mist,
His cloak was dark, his hands tight-fist.
His love—the Queen—had gone away,
Yet left her ink to stain the day.

O hearts may flee, and spades may judge,
Yet pride must pay its toll;
The cards were laid in Teddington
And sorrow took the soul.

The Queen of Hearts had turned to flame,
She wrote of love and fled from blame.
With one who vowed they both be free,
A stranger lost to land and sea.

The King of Spades, with cold command,
Passed letters by a trembling hand;
Each seal a blow the Duke endured,
Each word a wound no balm had cured.

“No blade,” he said, “cut quite as deep
As love betrayed and left to weep.”
“I wore my pride like battle steel
And now I know how loss can feel.”

O hearts may flee, and spades may judge,
Yet pride must pay its toll;
The cards were laid in Teddington
And sorrow took the soul.

The Queen has sailed, the King stands still,
The Duke must bear the empty will;
And I, who crossed to heal my mind,
Stood mute before the weeping wind.
Let hearts take flight and spades pronounce
Pride’s debt will still be paid!
The cards were laid in Teddington
And fate’s decree was made!

Let hearts take flight and spades pronounce
The tally takes its toll!
The cards were laid in Teddington
And sorrow took the soul!

O hearts may flee, and spades may judge…
Yet pride must pay its toll;
The cards were laid in Teddington
And sorrow took the soul.

So mark this tale and learn it true:
The kind may bleed, the proud may rue.
Though kings may reign and queens may run,
Some fall the hardest when undone.

O hearts may flee, and spades may judge…
Yet pride must pay its toll;
The cards were laid in Teddington
And sorrow took the soul.

A1-S4 The Cards Were Laid in Teddington — Aria da Concerto (Baritone • Operatic • Tragic • Folk)

Eternal Truth – Aria da Concerto is a storm-forged operatic lament for baritone soloist and male chorus. Blending classical form with epic, modern intensity, it unfolds as a journey from silence into struggle, from fracture into revelation.

The aria begins with a solemn recitativo secco, invoking stillness before flame, silence before speech. The arioso rises with reflection, bearing witness to light even as time and truth are fractured. The choral invocation swells with collective strength, guiding the soul through silence toward resilience.

A darker chorus of voices and shadows follows — whispers, foam, wind, and fleeting words that cannot bind what endures. The cabaletta bursts in thunder and steel, a defiant surge where each wound refines, each stumble teaches, and no storm can sunder the vowed path.

At the aria’s heart lies the climactic expansion, a maxim delivered with operatic force:
“No blade,” is said, “cuts quite as deep,
As failure nursed to make us weep.
Let’s wear our pride like battle steel;
And embrace the truth that loss reveals.”

From rubble and sorrow blooms renewal — silence becomes guide, and tears give life to the soul’s flower. The return and transformation recall the opening lines but with greater power, reshaped by struggle.

The coda closes in sweeping inevitability:
So it was, and so it is,
Time will break, and time will mend.
At stillness’ edge, a hope unending extends,
And sorrow’s chain at last will end.

Forged in silence and storm, Eternal Truth stands as both lament and triumph: a testament that truth endures, unbroken by the passing of time or the weight of sorrow.

[LYRICS]

Rise, O soul, into the stillness,
Before the word, before the flame;
Here the sands hold their witness
Here the stars keep no count or name.

Time was whole before the fight,
Light was vast before the night;
Rise, O witness, and lift your sight,
Bear the truth to wake the light.
From the rubble, forge a tower,
So tears may nurse the soul’s flower.

There is motion deep within stillness;
It carries us onward, steady and true;
And opens the soul to living wholeness;
A timeless voice, guiding all we do.
From the rubble, forge a tower,
So tears may nurse the soul’s flower.

Words may follow as we’re walking,
Whispers follow, softly talking;
They break like foam upon the shore;
They fade like wind, they are no more.
What is said before us or behind us
Cannot bind us, or confine us;
The stone may strike, its fragments fly;
Yet truth endures; it cannot die.

Come, let us tumble; let us fall;
We accept it, one and all!
For in the breaking, there’s the sign,
The strength to rise is yours and mine.
Each stumble teaches, each wound refines,
It makes us stand with straighter spine.
No thief of fate, no storm shall sunder
Our vowed path, nor steal our thunder.

“No blade,” is said, “cuts quite as deep,
As failure nursed to make us weep.
Let’s wear our pride like battle steel;
And embrace the truth that loss reveals.”
Now the silence is our true guide,
And sorrow’s seed will turn the tide;
From the rubble, forge a tower,
So tears may nurse the soul’s flower.

Time was whole before the fight,
Light was vast before the night,
Now in the silence we will find our might,
From the rubble, forge a tower,
So tears may nurse the soul’s flower.

So it was, and so it is,
Time will break, and time will mend.
At stillness’ edge, a hope unending extends,
And sorrow’s chain at last will end.

A1-S1 Eternal Truth – Aria da Concerto (Operatic Lament • Baritone • Forged in Silence and Storm)

Scene 3 from the cycle Chains of Sorrow.
The Footbridge is written in a Neo-Classical / Modern Classical style — a hybrid of traditional aria form with contemporary textures. Rather than staged opera, it functions as a concert aria, blending baritone solo and male chorus with chamber ensemble (strings, harp, winds, and subtle percussion).

The piece explores a moment of suspended recognition: the awareness that choices must be made, though clarity never arrives. The baritone voice carries self-questioning phrases, answered and expanded by the chorus, while the orchestration shifts between hushed reflection and urgent surges.

Not tragic but reflective, the music dwells in ambiguity, carrying the listener into the tension between doubt and resilience.

[LYRICS]

Dark were the days of deep despair,
White were the nights of solace rare;
I stood where shadows veil the air,
And sorrow’s weight consumed me there.

I stand between two roads of old,
Each with promise, bright and bold;
The bridge beneath bears not a name,
Yet none who cross return the same.

No guide remains, no hand to lead,
The heart must guard its quiet need;
For choices cut and choices bind,
But silence cuts the deepest kind.

The vessel empties, poured out free;
The stream runs dry, cut from its source.
To walk this path, I must be still;
To bear the weight, I keep my course.

What heart can give when thirsts in vain?
What hand can heal when bound by pain?
I drink from silence, breathe like tide,
That I may stand where paths divide.

The vessel empties, poured out free;
The stream runs dry, cut from its source.
To walk this path, I must be steady;
To bear the weight, I keep my course.

The vessel must fill ere it pour,
The root must drink to bloom once more.

The vessel must fill ere it pour,
The root must drink to bloom once more.

The fog awaits with quiet hand,
To test the path, to mark the stand.

I crossed the bridge, then turned around,
Unsure which side was truly mine;
The fog then curled and closed around,
And blurred each boundary line.

I crossed the bridge, then turned again,
Unsure which side was ever mine;
The fog then veiled the path I trod,
And blurred all boundary lines.

The rail was cold beneath my hand,
As the river rolled dark below;
Its voice was low, a mournful strand,
And echoed what I’ve come to know.

The rail was cold beneath my hand,
As the river rolled dark below;
Its voice was low, yet deeper still,
And echoed what I’ve come to know.

Not every road is meant to show
Its ending from the very start;
But fog is kind to those who wait
And listen with a faithful heart.

A bell rang, time drawn in to full,
A boat slipped slowly out of view;
I felt the moment strain and pull,
Yet still I never truly knew.

Two sides, two lives, both calling out,
Yet neither one could give me peace.
The bridge became a place of doubt,
Where second thoughts find no release.

Not every road is meant to show
Its ending from the very start;
But fog is kind to those who wait
And listen with a faithful heart.

Some choices bloom like morning light,
While others drift like distant mist.
The wiser path is rarely bright,
Yet still a truer way will persist.

Not every road is meant to show
Its ending from the start.

But still I crossed that bridge again,
And followed what I knew was right;
And doubt itself can lead us home—
Yes, at the last, it leads us home.

The self must feed, the self must grow,
Or none may walk where choices go.
For silence guides and silence shows,
The strength that every spirit owes.

The self must feed, the self must grow,
Or none may walk where choices go.


A1-S3 The Footbridge – Aria da Concerto (Baritone • Reflective • Neo-Classical)

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.

When the Lass Maggie Tore Up the Place – A Pub Tale of Pints, Trouble and Grace

Dikheel Aldikheel

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