I Refuse (feat. Maria Brink of In This Moment)

Bad Company (2025 VERSION)

Stones

Raised By Shadows

“Broken Eagles: Part II — Roman Legions’ Defeat” and its companion piece “Throne of Thorns: Part I — The Ambush” portray the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest in 9 AD from two opposing perspectives.

This Part 2 follows the Roman legions as they face the shock and chaos of the devastating ambush — a descent from discipline and dominance into confusion and ruin beneath the trees.

It is a frantic heavy metal war piece told through the eyes of Roman legionaries caught in the ambush of the Ghost Warriors — inspired by the legendary Harii nightfighters of the Teutoburg Forest. No sleep, no escape. Only panic in the dark.

If Part I (Throne of Thorns) was the war cry,
this is the final breath.

Rock it!

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Broken Eagles : Part II – Roman Legions’ Defeat
Blue Bathtub
Releas date: 04.10.2025
Lyrics: Peter Risberg

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Broken Eagles : Part II – Roman Legions’ Defeat

[Verse 1]
We marched along a narrow trail,
Armor clashed, our faces pale.
The dusk closed in, no stars, no light,
The trees were whispering — something’s not right.

[Pre-Chorus]
The horn it cried, the night went black,
Shadows moved — they struck our back.

[Chorus]
Ghost Warriors striking, blow by blow,
Nowhere left for us to go.
Stones are flying, shields are torn,
Spears break armor, hope is gone.

Trapped in fire, the night won’t end,
No way to fight, no way to defend.
Legions broken, glory denied,
The Ghost Warriors hunt — none survive.

[Verse 2]
No sleep — no rest — three nights awake,
Every rustle a threat we can’t shake.
We swing at shadows, strike empty air,
They’re gone before we even know they’re there.

[Pre-Chorus]
VARUS IS DOWN — I SAW HIM FALL!
THE STANDARD IS LOST — WE HAVE NO CALL!

[Lead-In]
Stuck in the mud, nowhere to go,
They thin out our lines, one by one!

[Chorus]
Ghost Warriors striking, blow by blow,
Nowhere left for us to go.
Stones are flying, shields are torn,
Spears break armor, hope is gone.

Trapped in fire, the night won’t end,
No way to fight, no way to defend.
Legions broken, glory denied,
The Ghost Warriors hunt — none survive.

[Bridge]
Three long days of mud and flame,
Each man fell, in blood and shame.
No gods answered, none would save,
The Ghost Warriors crowned our grave.

[Final Chorus]
Ghost Warriors striking, blow by blow,
Nowhere left for us to go.
Stones still flying, shields still torn,
Spears break armor — hope is gone.

Trapped in fire, the night won’t end,
No way to fight, no way to defend.
Eagles fallen, glory denied,
Ghost Warriors watch as legions die.

[Outro]
Three legions, completely wiped out — 30000 troopers down.
- Emperor Augustus — GIVE ME BACK MY LEGIONS!
GIVE THEM BACK!

GIVE THEM BACK!
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© 2025 Blue Bathtub. Lyrics by Peter Risberg. Music and vocals generated with Suno AI (PRO License), under commercial license.
All rights reserved. No part of this recording may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without permission.

Broken Eagles - (Part II – Roman Legions’ Defeat)

Broken Eagles : Part II – Roman Legions’ Defeat

“Hands On Our Shoulders” is a record about the weight we carry and the grace that carries us. It tells the stories of ordinary people standing in the wreckage of their choices, their losses, and their faith — yet still finding redemption in the quiet presence that never leaves their side.

From the young man learning to raise his children alone, to the boy grieving a father lost too soon, to the faithful teenager holding on through chaos at home, these songs wrestle with the ache of growing up too fast — and the sacred beauty found in sacrifice.

This is an album about learning that God’s hand is never far, even when the world feels unrecognizable. It’s about mercy that doesn’t erase the pain, but redeems it; about fathers, sons, and believers who find strength not in perfection, but in persistence.

Each track is a confession, a prayer, and a promise — that the struggles we bear are not ours alone. We are shaped, steadied, and saved by unseen hands on our shoulders.

Hearts I Hold

The road don’t care what you’ve done.
It just asks if you’re still ....chasing thunder......
He lit his first smoke off a burning bridge.
Took his first punch with a grin and a twitch.
He’s got scars where names used to be.
And a throttle hand that don’t believe in peace.
He drinks like the past is still chasing him.
And rides like the future ain’t worth a sin.
He’s buried brothers in dust and flame.
and when he rides he calls their names.
He’s got blood on his boots and glass in his grin.
Every barroom brawl was a prayer to begin.
He don’t ask for mercy, don’t speak of regret.
He just pours another round and lights a cigarette.
The road is his gospel, the bike is his creed.
He’s chasing thunder — not hope, not need.
He rides with ghosts who never forgive.
And he swears that’s the only way to live.
No apologies, no second tries.
Just engines screaming under blackened skies.
If you ride with him, you ride and never tell
And you better be ready ...to ride through hell...
He’s chasing thunder — not dreams, not light.
Just the roar that drowns out the night.
He’s chasing thunder — through blood and bone.
Where the broken ride alone.
He’s chasing thunder — no brakes, no prayer.
Just a brotherhood built on dare.
He’s chasing thunder — and if you fall behind…
If your a brother ...gonna toss you a line
He found a brother broken down , lost in the dark.
No patch, no pride — just gun shot marks.
And for the first time, he didn’t speak.
Just held the man and made him believe.
They’d fought, they’d bled, took off chasing thunder
to save a brother that got pulled  under.
He didn’t cry, didn’t rage, didn’t run.
He just whispered, “your not done.”......chasing ....thunder.......!
Brotherhood ain’t built on grace.
It’s forged in fire and a thousand mistakes.
It’s the silence when the world goes black.
And the promise that you’ve got his back.
It’s not forgiveness — it’s the ride.
And the thunder you chase side by side.
He’s chasing thunder — not dreams, not light.
Just the roar that drowns out the night.
He’s chasing thunder — through blood and bone.
Where the broken ride alone.
He’s chasing thunder — no brakes, no prayer.
Just a brotherhood built on  each dare.
He’s chasing thunder — and if you fall behind…
If your a bother... gonna  toss you a line...
The road don’t care what you’ve done.
It just asks if you’re still ....chasing thunder.
chasing thunder......
chasing thunder.......chasing .....thunder.....

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Chasing Thunder Rusty Marshall Band

All in the Reflexes

An explosive, triumphant rock song about self-confidence and unlocking one's potential. It's a declaration that the power to change one's life has always resided within oneself.

The Key Was Me

Unofficial fan work, not endorsed by Games Workshop. Warhammer 40,000 is © Games Workshop Ltd. All associated marks, names, characters, and imagery are ®/TM/© Games Workshop Ltd. Used without permission. No challenge to their status intended.

Indomitus Rising (The Escape)

“Ghost in the Machine” is a theatrical rock-opera concept album that explores humanity’s fragile soul in an age of algorithms, artificial intelligence, and digital control. Blending humor with drama, the album follows a journey from technological euphoria to quiet existential fear, questioning what remains truly human when life becomes driven by code, data, and machines. Through epic, operatic rock and satirical storytelling, the album reveals that even inside cold systems, a spark of individuality, rebellion, love, and soul refuses to disappear. It is a celebration of human imperfection — and a warning about what we might lose if we ever forget it.



The Last Human Error

Acoustic Sessions: Prayers for the Damned / Rise

Prayers for the Damned (Acoustic)

In the shadows of Apache Junction, at the foot of the majestic Superstition Mountains, sits a weathered hacienda. This desert oasis is home to an enigmatic figure, a songwriter whose journey reads like a long, dusty road of honky-tonk bars and college cafeterias. He wasn't chasing fame or glitter; instead, he chose the soul-crushing beauty of music for music's sake.

Years spent hunched over sticky barroom tables and scribbling lyrics on napkins earned him a reputation—not in the spotlight but in the back rooms where deals are made. He wrote melodies that found their way into the hearts of stars who had lost their own muse. He sold his creations for cash, with no recognition, but the whisper of his songs carried the weight of his soul.

Finally, he bought this piece of desert paradise—a stable income from his timeless songs allowed him to live comfortably, if anonymously. Here in this hacienda, with his family beside him and the mountains as his backdrop, he found the peace to write hits under his own name. He chuckled at the irony that now, without chasing fame, he could create music that brought him joy.

In the end, it was never about the spotlight. It was about the journey, the stories, and the songs that wrote themselves through his life. As the sun set behind the Superstitions, casting long shadows over the hacienda, he strummed his guitar and sang—content, unknown, and unburdened by the world's gaze.


Copyright 2019 Edwin H. Balder

I may be dead when fame comes but my real glory was always JULIE & The Kids. Thank you for such love

Chasing Thunder Rusty Marshall Band

Edwin Balder