[intro]

[verse]
The rope cares nothing about your mother, 
lover, sister, father, brother
The rope tightens, bit by bit, 
and the bits are coming faster
The end is coming very soon, 
it offers nothing but disaster

[verse]
The rope is always so much worse, 
the noose is hurting like a curse
You cannot offer any bribes
there are no threats that will survive

[verse]
The rope, it keeps on moving
it knows nothing about forgiving
It cares nothing about your life, 
about your death, about your wife
There is nothing you can say
your throat is pinched,
your tongue, too big, gets in the way

[instrumental]

[verse]
Your eyes bulge, the rope moves on
Your body shakes, the rope moves on
Your feet, they vainly search, 
look for the chair you stood on
The rope moves on

[verse]
Is there nothing you can do?
Will someone save you in the end?
But no, the rope won't bend
It's not your friend

[verse]
When you have run out of rope
you will not care, you will not feel
Everything here will be unreal
Your feet will no longer dance, 
they will no longer have a chance
You once thought it was a thrill
After this, they will be still
What might have been is what you killed

[verse]
What were you thinking?
You now forget
Was it a bet, was there much pain, 
was it for love, too dark a stain?
Why can't the rope just wait, 
give you a minute to explain?

[verse]
You've changed your mind
You were just kidding
The rope will break, it cannot be,
it was a test, a big mistake
How can any of this be fair, 
you body spinning in the air

[verse]
The lights grow dim
You thought there would be truth,
a final answer, 
a recounting of your youth
You thought you'd have a chance,
a little time to tell them why, 
you'd say goodbye

[verse]
It does not matter, there is no more
Nothing will-be just like before
But you won't know after you go
So what's your point, what does this show?

[verse]
The rope is all there is and  
its length measures your life  
but it cannot be the sum  
Think again, look at your son,
speak to your wife
If not for them, for someone else
If not yourself, then for a cause
Is there a reason to live on?
Will nothing give you pause?

[instrumental]

[verse]
If the answer is always no,
maybe you're right
and it is truly time to go

[verse]
It is clearly your decision
You don't have to talk to me
and you don't need my permission
I only want you to be sure
This is the final step
and it is one step too many
Once you step off from the chair...

[verse]
I'll be here, call again
I have the time, so do you
We can talk the whole night through
I won't pretend to be your friend
But I care, I really do
I'll say goodnight 
and hope to speak to you again

[instrumental]

[outro]

[verse]
Operator standing by

[instrumental interlude]

[end]


End of the Rope

Holding Firm
(c) J. Murdock McInnes Vasey

[intro]

[instrumental]

[verse]
I look across the street
At friends I never meet
I see their children in their yard
Mine long grown and not around
My wife, she knew them better
But she's left for better weather

Alone inside I drowse 
Or roam what was our house
Each room I check, open each door
Don't step inside, don't want to see
My rounds end in the garage
That beam that held up things for me
It hangs useless on the ceiling
My step falters, My mind is reeling

The ladder she used to paint our walls
I always feared that she would fall
It stands now, out in the middle
Its purpose now is not a riddle

The rope I used when trimming branches
Hangs down, one end in reach
With both hands I yank
and it holds firm
Not like my life
About to turn

[pause]

To turn, to turn
To spin around
To look for purchase 
None to be found
To turn, to turn
To spin around
To spin around

[instrumental]

The rope I used when trimming branches
Hangs down, one end in reach
With both hands I yank
and it holds firm
Not like my life
About to turn

[pause]

To turn, to turn
To spin around
To look for purchase 
None to be found
To turn, to turn
To spin around

To spin around

To spin around

To turn and spin around

[instrumental]

[outro]

Holding Firm

(non ai, by klark jackson)

[Verse 1]
She moves where time forgets its flow,
Leaves behind a trail that glows
I’m still learning what she said,
She’s already two steps ahead.

[Chorus]
She’s two steps ahead of the dawn,
I blink and the color is gone,
Her laughter rings inside my head,
I’m still half-asleep—she’s fled.

Two steps ahead of the flame,
Drifting through worlds with no name,
I can’t touch her, can’t forget—
She’s the rhythm I can’t catch yet.

[Verse 2]
She paints the air in shifting hues,
A prism breaks where she moves,
Every glance a twisted spell,
A dream I almost knew too well.
I chase the lines where fate once led—
But she’s already two steps ahead.

[Chorus]
She’s two steps ahead of the dawn,
I blink and the color is gone,
Her laughter rings inside my head,
I’m still half-asleep—she’s fled.

Two steps ahead of the flame,
Drifting through worlds with no name,
I can’t touch her, can’t forget—
She’s the rhythm I can’t catch yet.

[outro]
I’m still learning what she said,
She’s already two steps ahead.
I chase the lines where fate once led—
But she’s already two steps ahead.










two steps ahead

Someone to Sing the Blues
(c) J. Murdock McInnes Vasey

[intro]

[instrumental]

[verse]
I am looking for a woman
Someone to sing the blues
Someone who made a choice
And had something to loose

[verse]
I don't want a story told
by a spiteful twelve year old
I don't want to hear the blues
Because they scuffed their brand new shoes

[verse]
I am looking for a woman
For whom things did not go well
Someone who's had a life
And has something she can tell

[verse]
I don't want to hear hysteria
About the food and cafeteria
Or about their last boyfriend
Who is about to now turn ten

[verse]
I want someone I can believe
Who tells it like it is
Someone to help me grieve
For this life I have to live

[verse]
I don't care about the scars
The lift left on their ass
Or the tragedy it was
When their boyfriend missed a pass

[verse]
Give me something real
From someone who can feel
Someone who's had to kneel
And beg for their last meal

[instrumental]

[verse]
I don't want a story told
by a spiteful twelve year old
I don't want to hear the blues
Because they scuffed their brand new shoes

[verse]
I don't want to hear hysteria
About the food and cafeteria
Or about their last boyfriend
Who is about to now turn ten

[verse]
I don't care about the scars
The lift left on their ass
Or the tragedy it was
When their boyfriend missed a pass

[pause]


[verse]
I am looking for a woman
Someone to sing the blues
Someone who made a choice
And had something to loose

[verse]
I am looking for a woman
For whom things did not go well
Someone who's had a life
And has something she can tell

[verse]
I want someone I can believe
Who tells it like it is
Someone to help me grieve
For this life I have to live

[verse]
Give me something real
From someone who can feel
Someone who's had to kneel
And beg for their last meal

[instrumental]


[outro]



Someone to Sing the Blues

“To the Broken Hearts” drifts through the haze of a late-night bar, where time slows and memories linger in the glow of fading lights. It’s a quiet tribute to those who’ve loved deeply, lost bravely, and still find comfort in an old song echoing through the smoke. With a tender storyteller’s voice, it celebrates the poets, dreamers, and ghosts who never stop singing — a bittersweet reminder that even heartbreak can hum with warmth.

„To the Broken Hearts“ schwebt durch den Nebel einer langen Nacht in der Bar – dort, wo die Zeit stillzustehen scheint und Erinnerungen in weichem Licht glühen. Es ist eine leise Hommage an all jene, die tief geliebt, mutig verloren und Trost in einem alten Lied gefunden haben. Mit der Stimme eines Geschichtenerzählers feiert der Song Poeten, Träumer und Geister, die nie aufhören zu singen – eine bittersüße Erinnerung daran, dass selbst gebrochene Herzen noch Wärme tragen können.

To the broken hearts

Smoke curls slow above the crowd
I watch their eyes, the quiet, proud
The jukebox sighs, the lights grow dim
I play a song they used to sing

A girl in red just stirs her glass
Her eyes reflect what used to pass
She smiles as if the years don’t show
Just sways to songs from long ago

An old man hums, his voice worn thin
Says, “They don’t write songs like that again”

Play me one more for the broken hearts
For the poets, for the late-night starts
For the lovers who still dare to care
In the last piano bar somewhere
Oh, play it soft, play it true
For the ghosts who sing along with you

I play for tips and broken dreams
For whispered lies and second schemes
And somewhere in the sound I find
The better parts I left behind

The keys grow tired, the crowd moves on
But music stays when life is gone
It fills the cracks the years create
And hums that love can’t come too late

Play me one more for the broken hearts
For the poets, for the late-night starts
For the lovers who still dare to care
In the last piano bar somewhere
Oh, play it soft, play it true
For the ghosts who sing along with you

And now let the record spin again
Four friends, one song, and no amen
Just the echo through the stars
From the last piano bar


To the broken hearts

The Gray Fuzzy Middle
(c) J. Murdock McInnes Vasey

[intro]

[instrumental]

[chorus]
With empathy declining
and guilt fading away
Does it matter what you do
Does it matter what you say

[pause]

[verse]
At one end there are the saints
The kind of people we are not
Those for whom all others matter 
and never have forgot
The help they have received
From where it came and what they got

[pause]

[verse]
At the other end the monsters
The kind we hope that we are not
Those who care only for themselves
Who must win above all else
Who believe they did it all
The whole world in their control

[pause]

[verse]
In between is where we are
Near the good or much too far
In that gray fuzzy middle
Where we don't know who we are

Where we balance every day
What we want, with what we pay
Where we must matter more
But how much more, 

Not that much
Not so much more

Not so much more

Not so much more

[instrumental]

[chorus]
With empathy declining
and guilt fading away
Does it matter what you do
Does it matter what you say

[pause]

[verse]
In between is where we are
Near the good or much too far
In that gray fuzzy middle
Where we don't know who we are

Where we balance every day
What we want, with what we pay
Where we must matter more
But how much more, 

Not that much
Not so much more

[chorus]
With empathy declining
and guilt fading away
Does it matter what you do
Does it matter what you say

[instrumental]

Not that much
Not so much more
Not so much more
Not so much more

[outro]

[Arrangement]
Laid-back drums and deep, reverb-soaked bass establish a relaxed groove. 
Tremolo-laden guitar lines weave through each verse, highlighted by expressive blues bends and fuzzy solos. 
The bridge’s vintage synth layers build a dreamy feel, dissolving into a slow, hypnotic outro.



The Gray Fuzzy Middle (bluesy)

The Dead Don't Know
(c) J. MUrdock McInnes Vasey

[intro]

[instrumental]

The dead don't know
They just don't know
Do they lay there and just rot
or go places that are hot
Do they care if we forgot
It could be
But I think not
They just don't know

I knew some people that are dead
Sometimes they pop into my head
We talk a little for a while
I try to make them smile
But they don't seem to care
They look like they are dead
And never really there

The dead, they float around
Move through the air without a sound
They hover over crypts
People bring them special gifts
I've seen them sneer at them
Flowers don't do them any good
They wish they could eat food

What can I say about the dead
They are not very nice
They smell like something dead
But you can't give them a bath
They sometimes make some little sound
They let you know they are around
But never will be found

People come, bow down and pray
Who knows what shit they say
Some cry and say they miss them
Some howl and say they're sorry
The dead don't care, no need to worry
They look down into your head
And wish that you were dead

And wish that you were dead

And wish that you were dead

The dead don't know
They just don't know
Do they lay there and just rot
or go places that are hot
Do they care if we forgot
It could be
But I think not
They just don't know

The dead don't know
They just don't know

The dead don't know
They just don't know

They just don't know

[instrumental]

[outro] 


The Dead Don't Know (AS)

I write the lyrics; Mr. Alfonso Suno composes the music.  Working with the lovely Ms. Ai Ongaku, they create the arrangements.  Ms. Ongaku and her crowd are responsible for the performances.  My part in creating these tracks is very small. Nonetheless, I am to blame.  Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.

The Dead Don't Know (AS)

I and Ai

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