Bad Girls

Dead Roses

SUNO 4.0

*

This is the night mail crossing the border
Bringing the cheque and the postal order
Letters for the rich
Letters for the poor
The shop at the corner and the girl next door
Scaling the summit
A steady climb
The gradient's against her
But she's on time
Past cotton grass and moorland boulder
Casting white plumes over her shoulder
Swift as an arrow she passes
Silent miles of wind-bent grasses

Birds turn their heads as she approaches
Stare from the bushes at her blank-faced coaches
Sheepdogs cannot turn her course
They slumber on with paws across
In the farm she passes
No one wakes
But a jug in the bedroom gently shakes

Dawn freshens
The climb is done
Down towards Glasgow she descends
Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes
Towards the fields of apparatus
The furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen
All Scotland waits for her
In dark glens
Beside pale-green lochs
Men long for news

Letters of thanks
Letters from banks
Letters of joy from the girl and the boy
Receipted bills and invitations
To inspect new stock or visit relations
And applications for situations
And timid lovers' declarations
And gossip
Gossip from all the nations
News circumstantial
News financial
Letters with holiday snaps to enlarge in
Letters with faces scrawled in the margin
Letters from uncles
Cousins
And aunts
Letters to Scotland from the South of France
Letters of condolence to Highlands and Lowlands
Notes from overseas to Hebrides
Written on paper of every hue
The pink
The violet
The white and the blue
The chatty
The catty
The boring
Adoring
The cold and official and the heart's outpouring
Clever
Stupid
Short and long
The typed and the printed and the spelt all wrong

Dawn freshens
Her climb is done
Down towards Glasgow she descends
Towards the steam tugs yelping down a glade of cranes
Towards the fields of apparatus
The furnaces
Set on the dark plain like gigantic chessmen
All Scotland waits for her

In dark glens.

Buy on Bandcamp

Night Mail

[Verse 1]
He called it love, but it felt like a cage
Like whiskey sweet, then turned to rage
She wore the blame like Sunday pearls
Tried to be his perfect girl

He dimmed her light ‘til it near burned out
Built his kingdom on her doubt
But a woman’s heart can only bend
So far before it breaks again

[Chorus]
She’s better off alone than clinging to a lie
Better off with quiet nights and stars in open skies
Got no hand to hold, but her soul’s intact
She ain’t looking back, and that’s a fact
She found her peace where he lost control
Yeah, she’s better off alone

[Verse 2]
She got a circle small, but strong and true
Folks who show up, not just pass through
A porch swing, a vinyl, a glass of red
No cruel words dancing in her head

She sings off-key to her old John Prine
Feels more herself than she has in a while
A little bruised, but standing tall
A woman who won’t crawl to feel whole at all

[Chorus]
She’s better off alone than clinging to a lie
Better off with quiet nights and stars in open skies
Got no hand to hold, but her soul’s intact
She ain’t looking back, and that’s a fact
She found her fire where he struck cold
Yeah, she’s better off alone

[Bridge]
You don’t heal in hands that hurt
You don’t bloom in poisoned dirt
And she ain’t sorry for the day she said
“I’d rather walk than beg”

[Final Chorus]
She’s better off alone, whole and wild and free
Better off than losing sleep to keep somebody pleased
Her heart’s her own, her voice, her crown
She’s building something he can’t tear down
She ain’t bitter, just beautifully grown
Yeah, she’s better off alone

[Outro]
You ain’t too much. You ain’t too loud.
You ain’t meant to shrink to fit the crowd.
You’re worthy just by breathing deep
And loving you is yours to keep.

Better Off Alone

Confidential

Every Long Night (Maxter)

🎧 Slip of the Hand – by 4Me2BeFree
🔻 Song Insight
Slip of the Hand is a hushed warning wrapped in static, silence, and sarcasm. At its core, it’s about the quiet moments after betrayal — not when you scream, but when you’ve stopped caring enough to raise your voice. It captures the emotional aftermath of trust broken not by accident, but by ego, entitlement, and the casual theft of something sacred: peace.

Built with lo-fi vinyl textures, haunting glitch effects, and an almost whispered female vocal that sits on the edge of eerie detachment, the song becomes a psychological soundscape. This isn’t revenge. It’s the silence before the storm. The moment when grief becomes clarity — and clarity becomes something dangerously calm.

The chorus echoes like a looped message you can’t erase:

“A slip of the hand, no need to explain / You stole what steadied me — left static and strain.”

🔻 Lyrics
[Intro]
You gave new meaning to silence
Visited me after the damage
Heard me trying to stitch my calm
Knowing that sound was my salve, my balm

[Verse 1]
You came back like nothing snapped
Eyes soft, voice low, history redacted
I showed you my world — again, stupid me
You watched me show peace, then left with a piece

[Pre-Chorus]
Played my friend, then set the snare
Talked ‘bout plans, like you’d always care
But your words delayed, your truth betrayed
Stone-faced silence — I was amazed

[Chorus]
A slip of the hand, no need to explain
You stole my stillness, left static and strain
My ears, my calm — stolen in plain view
Dead battery soul, just like you

[Verse 2]
You knew they mattered — that was the point
Not the brand, the frequency I used to heal joints
Sessions lost, memories blurred
You didn’t steal earbuds — you stole my words

[Verse 3]
Guilt dressed like kindness, showed up in a box
Refurb’d comfort, cold and off
Didn’t think I’d deserve something new
Just something “good enough” from you

[Pre-Chorus]
Never said it. Never had the spine
Just a tracking link and a lazy lie
Can’t clean a theft with a faded case
You can’t refund grace

[Chorus]
A slip of the hand, no need to explain
You stole my stillness, left static and strain
My ears, my calm — stolen in plain view
Dead battery soul, just like you

[Verse 4]
Sixty minutes in, it dies — again
That left bud coughs, and I see your grin
I don’t recharge, I just remember
What broke in me that cold November

[Pre-Chorus]
You haunted my calm, like a ghost in the wire
But I don’t rage — I rewire
Every glitch, every cut
Another win — you're not enough

[Final Chorus / Outro]
A slip of the hand, no need to explain
You stole my stillness, left static and strain
My ears, my calm — stolen in plain view
Dead battery soul, just like you

🔻 Personal Reflection
I wrote this in a good mood. That’s the irony.
Sometimes, when you’re far enough from the pain, you can finally speak the truth without shaking. This wasn’t about losing earbuds — it was about losing trust, and what it feels like when someone takes something they know brings you peace, and they do it anyway.

The voice in this song isn’t angry. It’s tired. It’s calm in a way that’s almost frightening — like someone who’s done explaining and is just watching to see what you do next. I didn’t want a scream. I wanted a confession disguised as stillness.

This was my way of writing a threat without making one. And it made me laugh while I did it, because sometimes, you can burn someone alive just by writing the truth with a straight face.


From layered glitch-soul to theatrical narrative pop, the music is designed for listeners who don’t just hear — they feel. This track sets the tone for a new trilogy of sound: one that’s reflective, dangerous, and deeply human.

🔻 Copyright Notice
All lyrics and content featured in this post are protected under copyright (© 2025)

Slip Of The Hand

Maybe This Time

The Gooner Anthem… KEEP ON GOONING! Goonies Unite 😂

Goon

Same Ones

Den här låten är en rolig, charmigt busig och lättsam rockabilly/countrydoftande roadtrip-låt med mycket humor och värme. Den handlar om att ta livet med en klackspark, cruisa runt i en gammal Cheva som är en caprice 77" som jag kallar Ellinor, träffa polaren Nisse, och bara njuta av stunden – utan att försöka vara någon stereotyp cowboy.

Texten har en lekfull ton och är full av vardagliga bilder och komiska detaljer (som Nisses uppstoppade katt och småpratet på macken). Refrängen är catchy och lätt att sjunga med i, särskilt med den återkommande raden "ingen jävla cowboyhatt" – som sätter tonen för låtens självironiska frihetskänsla.

Ingen Jävla Cowboyhatt

You will be surprised how wide music taste I have.

Ingen Jävla Cowboyhatt

IN JOHN's HEAD

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