The final song, the unspoken words.
“Love Left on the Table” is that sigh at the end of it all —
a slow-burning blues confession for the love that stayed unclaimed.
No dramatic goodbye, no slammed doors. Just silence… and a chair left pulled out.

Woven with smoky guitar licks and quiet heartbreak,
this bonus track closes the journey with grace,
reminding us that sometimes the truest stories are the ones that never found their ending.

This is blues at its most vulnerable.
This is what’s left behind.

Love Left on the Table (Bonus Track)

Baby, I Don’t Miss You Anymore
A slow-burn strut for anyone who ever lied their way into freedom.

This isn’t heartbreak. It’s the moment after — when the fire’s out, the air is clear, and you’re walking away in heels that echo louder than any goodbye.

Swagger. Soul. Salvation.

Baby, I Don’t Miss You Anymore

---

[Verse 1]

I don’t check the mirror hopin’ you might be
In the shadow of my neck or the backseat dream
I don’t slow down past your old street light
I don’t hear your name when I kill the night

No more lipstick letters in the bathroom steam
No more barstool prayers or midnight schemes
I folded that ghost into a paper plane
Lit the match, let it fly, watched it burn mid-air


---

[Chorus] (Horns stab in. She leans back, exhales.)

And oh—
Baby, I don’t miss you anymore
That welcome mat is gone, I nailed a “KEEP OUT” to the door
No ache in my chest, no heat in my core
Just a breeze where the fire used to roar
You were a storm — but I danced through the floor
Now baby, I don’t miss you anymore


---

[Verse 2]

Your cologne used to haunt my coat
Like a secret still clingin’ to the thread and the throat
But I washed it out in whiskey and spite
Hung it on the line 'til it smelled like goodnight

No more checking who liked what post
No more dreams dressed up in ghost
I turned the bed, flipped the frame
You ain’t even a whisper in my name


---

[Chorus]

Yeah—
Baby, I don’t miss you anymore
That velvet lie I wore? Now it’s on the floor
No more waiting, no maybe, no score
You’re the punchline I don’t laugh at anymore
You were a cage — but I found the trapdoor
Now baby, I don’t miss you anymore


---

[Bridge] (Pull back. Just bass and organ hum.)

I said it ‘til my tongue went dry
Said it ‘til I stopped askin’ why
Said it through the scream and the sigh
Through the nights I let the phone just ring and die

It was a lie when I first swore
A spell I chanted to feel less sore
But now it’s bone, now it’s core
Said it 'til I didn’t have to say it anymore


---

[Final Chorus + Outro] (Band explodes back in. Ad-libs ride the groove.)

Baby, I don’t miss you anymore
That cracked key don’t fit this lock no more
Ain’t your echo, ain't your lore
You’re just dust that don’t settle on my floor
You were the ache — I became the cure
Now baby... I don’t miss you anymore

(Ad-libs)
“No, I don’t… I don’t…
You were fire, now I’m rain.
You were perfume, now you’re drain.”
(laughs, breathes)
“Don’t even hate you.
Just forgot how to need you.”
fading into groove
“Baby… I don’t… I don’t…”

Baby, I Don’t Miss You Anymore

"Blues in my Bottle" is a slow-burning blues tale of heartbreak, memory, and late-night solitude. After love walks out the door, all that’s left is an empty bed, a dusty record, and a glass of something strong. With raw emotion and vivid imagery, this track pours sorrow into every line — a toast to the ones who left, and the silence they leave behind.

For lonely rooms, low lights, and lovers gone too long.
#SlowBlues #HeartbreakBlues #RumAndBlues #AcousticBlues #SadSongs

Blues in my Bottle

Some lessons hit different when you grow into them.
This one’s for the late realizations, the good hurt, and every moment that made you feel something real.

Worth the Squeeze

Sultry jazz blues duet with smoky vocals and late-night lounge vibes. A soulful tale of heartbreak, healing, and unexpected love.

I light one candle

Mischief
 ...Mischief...
You showed up late with that crooked smile
Said, “Just one drink,” but I stayed a while
Your hand on mine, like you knew the game
And I knew better—but I came
You talk like trouble, move like sin
And I’m not sure where I end or begin
Mischief… in your eyes
Mischief… in your lies
Mischief… on your tongue
And I’m too far gone to run
Mischief… in your hands
Mischief… in your plans
Mischief… in your kiss
And I’m fallin’ into this (Mischief) Mischief..(Mischief)
You say my name like it’s made of smoke
I laugh too loud at your dirty jokes
You pull me close, then push away
And I still beg you, “Make me stay”
You’re the kind that leaves a mark
But I keep dancing in the dark
Mischief… in your eyes
Mischief… in your lies
Mischief… on your tongue
And I’m too far gone to run
Mischief… in your hands
Mischief… in your plans
Mischief… in your kiss
And I’m fallin’ into this (Mischief) Mischief..(Mischief)
You pull me close, then disappear
Still..... I keep you near
I trace the line from wrong to right
But you blur it every night
You say my name like it’s a dare
And I forget what’s fair
I know the rules, I know the cost
But I’d rather feel than count what’s lost
You’re no good, but you’re all I crave
YEAaa... I’m the fool ...that mischief ....made
Mischief… in your smile
Mischief… all the while
Mischief… in your kiss
And I’m fallin’ into this…(Mischief) 

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

Mischief by 🌹Tina Talone🌹

Walk Away

Soulful Pop-Blues-Reggae-Folk-Country
Multi-generational and genre bending Ode to domestic tranquility

THEY CAME

That's how I want to die

Surrender

Weak-Kneed

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

Mischief by 🌹Tina Talone🌹

Edwin Balder

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