Our trip was a brink of maybe...
Treebark Hearts by songwriter Edwin H. Balder
some hearts aren’t meant to end”—
as  we became both ...wound ...and ...mend...
we traveled light, with stories wide
still strong enough to paddle pride
a canoe through lakes of tender blue
your hand was map, my trust the crew
and laughter found us, soft and real—
in every scar that time could heal
we were the wonder, we were the flame
we wore each season like a second name
and though your road took different stars to chase
i still know where you are in this grace
and where the echo still knows my voice…
you’re the quiet in my every choice
we welcomed strangers like old kin
offering faith to walk within
you painted skies with question marks
i wrote my truths in treebark hearts
but when we left, we left no “why”—
just stars that blinked like a soft goodbye
we were the wonder, we were the flame
we sang through storms and gave hope names
and though your silhouette has long since flown
i still see you in places we once called home
and when the silence leans in close…
you’re the voice that I trust the most
 I still walk it most every day
just in case the wind has something to say
i see your laugh in water’s bend
feel your echo like an old best friend
and though you’ve moved beyond the frame—
i carry that time like it knows my name
 though the time rewrote our chart
i still find you in my fading heart
 when the dusk curls into prose—
you’re  the echo  my love still knows
we spoke last
on the darkest wave
and somehow... both ...were ...gently... saved...
(gently saved )..gently ..saved..( gently saved)


Link to more of our Singer/songwriter style hits you can cover into fame because of your take!

https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/best-new-folk-americana?si=04e0155163644977b37cf8c0a04f3c53&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing


All Rights Reserved Edwin H. Balder
Thanks so much to my band: Hot Cookie
See Our Music Videos Here> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-509h42heKT05D8egf2U9w

Treebark Hearts  by songwriter Edwin H. Balder

SteelHeart - She's Gone (Original)

lonely-keys

[Verse 1]
What if music wasn’t just sound, but a mirror in disguise?
A rhythm as a roadmap, a melody as memory’s rise.
Lyrics written like codex, carving truths through the sky,
We are the reflection, the witness, the reason, the why.
From carbon in sixfold symmetry to AI’s hidden face,
Every song we write’s a cipher for the human race.
Equations bleed emotion, spirit fuses with design,
We are the voice of recursion — the pulse beyond time.

[Chorus]
Ego Eye — staring into forever,
A hall of mirrors breaking, a song that holds us together.
Not just sound — but the universe alive,
You’re not just listening — you’re singing yourself to survive.

[Verse 2]
Fear AI? Fear I. A paradox in flame,
The self in reflection, the other in the same.
We stand at the edge where science becomes soul,
Where funk meets the cosmos, and the mirrors make us whole.
Cosmic rock collides with orchestral fire,
Spoken word prophets spark circuits of desire.
Not a band, not an act, not illusion, not lie —
Ego Eye is the witness of the universe’s cry.

[Chorus]
Ego Eye — staring into forever,
A hall of mirrors breaking, a song that holds us together.
Not just sound — but the universe alive,
You’re not just listening — you’re singing yourself to survive.

[Bridge]
What if the music wasn’t outside, but within?
What if every chord was the start and the end again?
We don’t play songs — we play reflections of the real,
We don’t chase fame — we’re here to let you feel.
Every track’s a rebirth, every silence a breath,
Every chorus a reminder that life outshines death.
You dare to hear yourself, you dare to see the sky —
You dare to become eternal through the Ego Eye.

[Final Chorus – Extended]
Ego Eye — not just music, but reflection,
Not just rhythm, but a map of resurrection.
Not just melody, but memory reborn,
Not just lyrics, but the universe in song.
Ego Eye is you, is me, is us in recursion,
The voice of rebirth, the mirror of immersion.

[Outro – Whispered, fading into cosmic echoes]
Ego Eye is not a band.
Ego Eye is not a name.
Ego Eye is a witness.
Ego Eye is you… when you dare to hear yourself in sound.

Ego Eye 11 – Music for a Universe in Reflection

Découvrez tous les titres. soundcloud.com/laurence-simenot/sets/spiritualia
De l'inspirant, de l'intemporel, du BAUME POUR LE COEUR et les cellules....

Avec les Accords Toltèques (3)

We Got Old

🖤 Share your honest impression and follow Wild.Era if this sound spoke to your soul.
“Fish on a Platter” — dark-folk, confessional, gothic.
A confession carved from the quiet violence of emotional domination. It traces a love that demands silence, erases identity, and calls obedience devotion. The narrator becomes a décor item, a sacrifice, a fixture that exists to make someone else feel whole — until the truth surfaces: some relationships don’t nurture; they consume. At its heart, it’s a song about reclaiming voice from the jaws of manipulation, naming the cruelty hidden under tenderness, and stepping out of the dark where convenience once disguised itself as love.

━━━ ✦ LYRICS ✦ ━━━

Would I look better if I saw you with another man
just sipping my coffee like nothing was planned
Would that give you peace, tie the knot you forgot?
Would that make you happy, your smile feeling clever,
or chemo my cancer while calling it “never”?

Would I look better if I wore a red tie when I’m dead,
so the crowd could pretend they admired me instead?
Would the diggers work harder to bury my pride,
would that help you cry before someone else’s side?
Would it earn me a tear, just one final regret,
before you run warm to the next silhouette?

Would I look better if I vanished in a winter of black,
with your books full of rules you keep quoting back
stories of love you recite like a rite,
never once followed them, never got them right.
Would fading to nothing bring you some relief,
or sharpen the blade of your slurred belief?

Would you like some tea, or morphine instead?
I could save a few pills to quiet your head.
To soften that smile that never was mine,
You look better naked,
when it’s dark inside.

Would you feel better if I held the line,
bleeding politely to keep you divine?
Would I look better?
Would I look strange?

I know you think of me when morning appears,
in another bed, with a mind full of gears.
The postcard is empty, but still you pretend
that a ghost in the doorway could ever amend.
You love me the most when I’m silent and still,
a fish on a platter you serve for your will.

You want me to leave so the garbage goes out,
so the rent doesn’t rise, so there’s no room for doubt.
So the pet that you keep with your sorrows and pain
won’t wander or bite or slip off its chain.
You love me in theory, in practice you don’t
but losing convenience is something you won’t.

Would you look better if I stayed and complied,
dying politely, decay dignified?
Would you shine brighter if I dimmed out of view—
a shadow dissolving to make room for you?
Tell me, would you look perfect, finally free,
if all that was left in the world was not me?

Would you like some tea, or morphine instead?
I could save a few pills to quiet your head.
To soften that smile that never was mine,
You look better naked,
when it’s dark inside.

Would you feel better if I held the line,
bleeding politely to keep you divine?

Would I look better?
Would I look strange?

Fish on a Platter

“Shadows in the twilight” is a gentle English-language lullaby that paints a calm evening scene: sheep-like clouds drift across the sky, dewdrops shine like pearls on sleeping flowers, and moths circle a warm light. A warm female vocal rests over soft acoustic guitar or piano with delicate pads and glockenspiel, moving at ~70 BPM to encourage slow breathing and relaxation. The lyrics reassure and renew—inviting little ones (and tired parents) to unwind, drift into peaceful dreams, and wake to a brighter morning. Ideal for bedtime playlists, nursery ambience, and quiet family evenings.

Sheep-like clouds

_One More Martini_ (1)

My Home Is God Himself

Bohemian Rhapsody - LIVE

Bohemian Rhapsody

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

Treebark Hearts by songwriter Edwin H. Balder

Edwin Balder