Lipstick smeared on a coffee cup
Last night’s dress, still not cleaned up
Hair in a knot, heart in a spin
I swore I’d never call him again
Shoes by the door, keys on the floor
I’m not sure what I came here for
I said I’d heal, I said I’d rest
But here I am… making a mess
I’m not proud, but I’m not sorry
I’m just tired of having to worry
I’m making a mess, and it feels like truth
Breaking the rules I made for you
Crying in cars, dancing in bars
Losing my grip but showing my scars
I’m making a mess, but I’m feeling more
Than I ever did when I played it pure
So judge me less, love me raw
I’m making a mess… and standing tall
Texts I sent that I shouldn’t have
Laughing too loud, then feeling bad
I’m not the girl they thought I’d be
But maybe that girl wasn’t me
I spill my wine, I miss my cues
I wear my heart like worn-out shoes
I said I’d change, I said I’d guess
But here I am… making a mess
I’m not proud, but I’m not broken
I’m just done with what’s unspoken
I’m making a mess, and it feels like truth
Breaking the rules I made for you
Crying in cars, dancing in bars
Losing my grip but showing my scars
I’m making a mess, but I’m feeling more
Than I ever did when I played it pure
So judge me less, love me raw
I’m making a mess… and standing tall
I’m making a mess, and it feels like truth
Breaking the rules I made for you
Crying in cars, dancing in bars
Losing my grip but showing my scars
I’m making a mess, but I’m feeling more
Than I ever did when I played it pure
So judge me less, love me raw
I’m making a mess… and standing tall

All Rights held by songwriter Edwin H. Balder. 

Be sure to visit Tina's playlist here: 

https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/tina-talone-may-this-kind-of?si=c962a19838244cafab03c08ba110c75f&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Making a Mess  by 🌹Tina Talone 🌹

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

Making a Mess by 🌹Tina Talone 🌹

Edwin Balder