
Shadows stretch where the sunlight fails
Echoes drift down the concrete trails
Steps align like a secret waltz
Every move
A silent pulse

Streetlights blink like they’re keeping score
Cracks in the pavement whisper more
Each breath lingers
Thick with weight
The clock ticks slow
The night won’t wait

Shadows on the sidewalk
Dancing in the dark
Every fleeting moment leaves a lasting mark
Do we follow
Do we lead
Do we leave no trace
Or just vanish like the night
In the city’s embrace

The world’s a canvas
Cracked and torn
Every heart a brush
Every soul worn
Paint me in chaos
In truth
In light
Erase me in silence
In whispers
In night

Dust settles where the morning breaks
Dreams dissolve as the city wakes
But somewhere in the shadow’s line
A trace of us remains
Undefined

Shadows on the Sidewalk

Thousands of listeners really like this tune, classic easy listening dream pop

The Sound of Night

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Psychill Blossom 🌸 Псайчил / псайбиент / Psybient
https://www.submithub.com/link/psychillblossom
Psychill Blossom is a vibrant journey through psychedelic chillout, psybient, and downtempo soundscapes. Blending ethereal melodies and deep grooves. Let the music guide you beyond the ordinary. #Psychill #Downtempo #Psybient


Triptone - Lovely doll

think of me

A song about an 18th centuary local highwayman. Ruthless in his ways. Now, lost to time. Said to still roam the old roads and trackways of Hobson Moore. 
Some have seen the Ghost of a headless rider in the area. Others have heard the sound of hooves and the sound of a flintlock being fired in the dead of night. Is Captain Bishop still out there?

The Dirty Bishop

[Verse 1]
I picked a thought from the garden of noise,
It dripped down my hand like a voice,
Tasted sweet, then turned to static,
Guess I bit off something tragic.

I watered my doubt with caffeine dreams,
Grew a forest out of broken schemes,
Every color bled through time,
And I forgot which head was mine.

[Pre-Chorus]
All the clocks are bending slow,
My shadow hums in stereo,
If I speak too loud I fade,
Just fruit on a branch I made.

[Chorus]
Mindfruit — dripping from my ceiling,
Juice of all my twisted feelings,
Peel it back and watch me shine,
Rot or bloom, it’s all divine.

Mindfruit — bite it if you dare,
I’ve got galaxies tangled in my hair,
The seeds all hum, they know my name,
But nothing ever grows the same.

[Verse 2]
I swallowed a song and forgot the words,
Now melodies flutter like psychic birds,
They perch in my skull and sing in code,
While my body walks a different road.

Lick the light, it tastes like fear,
But I keep coming back every year,
This orchard grows where logic ends,
And every branch forgets to bend.

[Bridge]
The colors melt through veins of sound,
My roots lift off the haunted ground,
Can’t tell if I’m real or fruit of thought,
But every dream I’ve sold, I bought.

[Final Chorus]
Mindfruit — dripping through the dawn,
Reality hums, then it’s gone,
Peel it open, let it slide,
Bite the core and watch me hide.

Mindfruit — bitter, bright, and free,
Growing wild inside of me,
The sweetest taste of what’s not true,
But I keep eating just for you.

i left my body in the mirror

I Watch Myself

the sun is filtering through the blinds
your face is illuminated by the rays
I swear it hurts to see you shine
because I'll have to let you go
your face lit up...
in my head...
still, like a dream...
the morning light carried you away...
I felt the farewell in your voice...
I see your face in every ray...
morning brings the same pain...
the bright light cuts my eyes
In a world without you
I keep my blinds half-closed so I can't see that glow anymore
the way the light fell on your face
I still remember, it still hurts
the morning light illuminated you
illuminated you
illuminated you

illuminated

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rapture

Every experience leaves a trace. Residue is an album about what remains — the echoes of choices, love, loss, and the ghosts of who we used to be. Fueled by gritty guitars, raw emotion, and cinematic soundscapes, it captures the haunting beauty of memory that refuses to fade. Each track peels back another layer of self, blurring the line between healing and haunting. This isn’t nostalgia — it’s what lingers after the noise stops, the feeling that never really leaves.

What’s left behind still speaks.

illuminated

godsickness

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