A lifetime carved into one slow, cracked confession. Pure voice (low, broken, every line exactly 10 syllables) over a single detuned parlor guitar in open-D, the soft endless lap of river water every eight bars, and one mournful bowed note only when the name “Tommy” is spoken. Nothing else.
58 BPM of pure guilt in 6/8.

Riverbank Coward’s Confession

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How Wonderful You Are

Gordon Haskell