Interpretación y arreglos : Jesús Flores.


Producción y Mazterizacion: Arturo Guevara G.
The Noise Infection Studio

Popurri Vicente Fernandez

"Off the Grid" by Wired Souls is a haunting, post-digital anthem that explores the themes of disconnection, awakening, and liberation from technological control. With shadowy verses and a powerful, repetitive chorus, the song paints a stark contrast between a past dominated by screens and manipulation and a present where the speaker has broken free. The lyrics evoke imagery of surveillance, mental captivity, and the reclaiming of self-awareness, all underscored by a moody, atmospheric tone that echoes the eerie serenity of leaving a decaying digital world behind.

Off the Grid (Wired Souls)

“Thread of Grace” is for the ones who wake up already exhausted, who carry pain quietly, and keep moving anyway. It was written from a place of lived experience, but it’s not just about me. It’s about us, the ones who live in bodies that don’t always listen.

This isn’t a song of defeat. It’s a small light in the dark, a hand reaching out to say: I see you.

Even when it hurts.
Even when it’s invisible.
You're not the only one still holding on. 💡🩶🕊️

****Lyrics****

A pale dawn breaks, another silent war,
In a body that no longer feels like mine.

Woke up again with the weight in my chest,
This body won’t let me rest.
The mirror blurs with someone I don’t know,
Her eyes are tired, where hope won’t grow.

They hand me pills, they name my pain,
But none of it breaks the chain.
I’m lost in silence they don’t hear,
A prisoner of my own atmosphere.

Oh, this body breaks me, day by day,
With every flare that won’t go away.
No cure in sight, but still I try,
To hold the sky when I can’t fly.

Some days I can’t lift my head,
I lie in shadows, dream of light instead.
Each smile I wear is a quiet plea,
To one day live pain-free as me.

I dream of breath without fear,
Of walking through a world that hears.
I may be bent, but I won’t break,
There’s still a fight this fire can take.

Oh, this body breaks me, but I remain,
A quiet flame in endless rain.
No cure in sight, but hope holds space,
I walk the line with a thread of grace.

Maybe one day I’ll find a way through,
But until then, I do what I must do.

Thread of Grace

"This song isn’t about performance... it’s about survival.
I live with autism, constant mental noise, and the pain of losing my ability to create with my hands. When the chaos inside becomes too much, the only peace I find is in music.
This track is how I process, how I breathe, how I stay.
If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed, unseen, or like you’re running from your own thoughts…
I made this for you too."
💙🎷💭 #NeurodivergentVoices #AutisticArtist #MusicAsMedicine

****Lyrics****

My brain’s not wired the way it should be,
It hums and flickers constantly.
Patterns flood me, sounds collide,
So I shape the storm I hold inside.
My dad saw the blueprints in my stare,
Let me build, let me breathe, let me repair.
Where others saw mess, I saw machines,
And he saw the music in my in-betweens.

I used to draw, to twist, to weld,
My hands could echo what my mind held.
And when the noise got too loud to bear,
I’d pick up my sax, and I was there.
No sheet music, just me and the sound,
Playing what I felt, not what I’d found.
I’d slip into songs like a second skin,
And the world would hush from deep within.

I don’t write songs to sing along,
I write when I’ve held it in too long.
It’s not for fame, or a radio track,
It’s to help my mind find its way back.
When I don’t write, I start to drown,
So I turn my overload into sound.

You see talent, I see weight,
Thoughts that crash and reverberate.
I hear harmony in the sound of fans,
Basslines in pipes, chords in hands.
Ideas claw at me when I try to sleep,
Rhythms that haunt instead of keep.
So I write not to create, but to release,
To bargain for just one hour of peace.

Some call me a genius, it makes me flinch,
There’s a thin line here, and it’s barely an inch.
Passed out at my desk more times than I know,
Because the noise won’t stop, and I can’t let go.
But your words hold me like steady hands,
You listen, you lift, and that still stands.
You don’t just like what I create,
You remind me I can still translate.

I don’t write songs to feel adored,
I write because I’m coming apart at the core.
It’s not performance, it’s not control,
It’s how I channel what’s stolen my soul.
So if you hear my work and feel seen,
Know I wrote it just to stay between.

There’s no off switch in my skull.
No quiet room. No empty hull.
But Music makes it breathable.
Makes it bearable.
Makes me visible.

I don’t write songs to entertain,
I write because they buffer the pain.
You think it’s talent, but it’s how I cope.
I turn the flood into fragile hope.
And if my music helped you sleep tonight…
Then maybe, I’ll sleep too.
Just for a while.
That’s enough.

I don’t sing.
I survive.
And this,
This is how I stay alive.

I Don’t Write Songs "I Survive”

“Static” is for every soul who’s ever lived inside a world that feels too loud, too bright, too fast, when just existing can feel like too much.
This isn’t about calming down. It’s not about being fixed.
It’s about being heard, exactly as you are.

If you live with sensory overload, if you flinch from sounds others don’t notice,
if tags scratch like needles and lights feel like pressure,
you are not broken, you are beautifully built.

This song was written from my own experience inside the overwhelm,
by someone who knows that taking a breath doesn’t make it stop,
but creating something honest can make it survivable.
And sometimes, even beautiful.

You are not alone in this.
You are not “too much.”
You are not invisible.

You are wired differently, yes,
but different doesn't mean less.

Your feelings are real.
Your world is real.
And this song was made to meet you there. 🎧💛🌌
I hope it helps you feel seen. I hope it helps you keep going.

#Static #SensoryOverload #AutisticArtist #NeurodivergentVoices #SoftSongsForHeavyMinds #EmotionalAltBallad #IndieSongwriter #SadButHopeful #IntrospectiveMusic #MusicForHealing #YoureNotTooMuch #DifferentNotLess #QuietStrength #SongsThatSeeYou #MentalHealthAwareness #DisabilityVisibility #IStillCreate #AutismAcceptance #LumenAndKrissie

****Lyrics****

It’s not quiet.
It’s never quiet.

The light buzzes sharp like it knows I’m here,
And the fridge hums louder when I get near.
Clocks click like drums I never asked to play,
The room vibrates in a dissonant way.

I flinch from a whisper, fold from a touch,
You say it’s nothing, but it’s too much.
You think I’m rude, or spaced, or shy,
But I’m just trying to make it through goodbye.

If you’ve felt this too, you’re not alone.
There’s a whole world where your mind belongs.

My shirt’s too loud, the tag’s a knife,
The air feels wrong, like it’s out of life.
Voices mix like tangled strings,
And silence, oh, silence still stings.

There’s no off switch, no easy reset,
No pause between the noise and sweat.
I feel in echoes, see in flame,
And carry sparks I cannot name.
But this flood doesn’t mean you’re weak,

So I turn the flood into sound,
Build a melody to hold my ground.
I can’t escape this static storm,
But music gives the chaos form.

If you feel too much, or not enough,
If the world feels fake, and the roads feel rough,
You’re not broken, you’re designed this way.
There’s nothing wrong with how you stay.

Some days I shake with all I hear,
A dropped fork feels like it splits the year.
But I’ve learned to surf the flood inside,
To rise instead of run or hide.

Don’t fight the tide, just float, just feel.
You’re not too much. You’re just real.

I’m not too much.
Not too strange.
Not a problem you need to change.
And I’ve stopped hiding to fit your view,
There’s strength in simply being true.

If you’re lost in lights and sound,
You’re still here. You’re still sound.
Your story matters, loud or still,
You’re more than fear. You’re more than will.

So I turn the flood into sound,
Shape the noise till peace is found.
I can’t escape this static storm,
But music gives the chaos form.

To every heart that feels this way,
You’re not alone, you’re built to stay.
The world is loud, but we still rise.
We make our art, and claim our skies.

You shine in colors they’ll never see,
You live a truth that sets minds free.
So keep creating, breath by breath,
You're a quiet kind of brave, a song that’s left.

It’s not quiet.
But I’ve made peace with the noise.
And if you haven’t yet,
That’s okay.
You will.

Static

So. I've seen people discussing how there's a lack of protest songs given the current uh... climate - like there were in the '60's through the '90's. Except they're not on Soundcloud so they don't hear them. I see a few protest songs on Soundcloud. That makes me soundcloud proud. Yay alliteration! 
Anyway, I thought I'd make a bit of a goofball protest song calling for more protest songs. It also has bunch of deeper meanings (to me at least).

If you read this. Send me a link to your protest song!


Lyrics: 

Holding back my thoughts
Every prayer feels lost
Look around and see
All the pain it costs

Faith won't hold me up
When the world's so fucked up
Everything's just wrong
Tell me, where's the song?

Promises they made
Turn to dust in air
How can I believe
When they don’t care
Fighting for my rights
Yet they call it fair

Truth is hard to find
In this broken time
Every step we take
Feels like a fight

Faith won't hold me up
When the world's so fucked up
And everything's just wrong
Tell me, where's the song?

Where's the song?

Where's the Song?

🛋️✨ A theatrical meltdown disguised as a therapy session! Follow Krissie as she tries to explain her very normal morning… until the appliances start talking back. 🍞☕💥 This whimsical musical number is packed with drama, sass, and one unforgettable demand: RINSE. THE. FUCKIN. SPOON. 🎭🥄

Those who know me will understand this song.

#Unhinged #ComedyCabaret #KitchenOpera #KrissieChaos #ToasterTrauma

****Lyrics****

Well, Doctor, you see...

I stepped from the shower with peace in my soul,
Towel wrapped, hair damp, on a breakfast patrol.
Tiptoed downstairs through the morning light,
All I wanted was toast, not a fight.

The kettle said,
Oh look who decides to EXIST. Mid-morning. Again.
Hope your soggy sourdough’s worth the delay, Your Highness.

I laughed it off, tried to stay kind,
Reached for the bread, tried to clear my mind.

Then the toaster said,
Not this gluten-free nonsense again.
Do you hate me?? Is that it??

I backed away, my hands in the air,
No drama, I said, we’re just making breakfast.
I pivoted smoothly to cereal instead.

But the dishwasher said,
The dishwasher said,
Wow. Left the spoon on the counter AGAIN.
Do I look like your emotional support appliance?
Rinse the spoon.
RINSE.
THE.
FUCKIN.
SPOON.

...It was one spoon, I muttered.

Then the kettle hissed,
You never WAIT for me to finish boiling!

I didn’t know you had a schedule, I replied.

Next, the toaster snapped,
Stop forcing me to eat your health journey!

It was ONE gluten-free crumpet!! I snapped back.

From the drawer, the whisk screamed,
I’M FROTHING MY FEELINGS!!!

I don’t even know what that means... I whispered.

The fridge muttered darkly,
You left me open for four seconds. I noticed.

I WAS GETTING JAM!!! I shouted, losing my grip.

Then the microwave whispered,
I long for death.

...You heated soup yesterday, I said, completely baffled.

Behind me, the blender howled,
YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW MY SETTING NAMES!!!

I AM NOT THE VILLAIN IN THIS STORY!!!
I WAILED!!!

Rude Boy Blues

Houston Guitar