Mirabella's House

If gods were real, I’d curse their name,  
For weaving death, for crafting pain.  

They painted life with cruel design,  
And split the hearts they should entwine.  
From tender bloom to rotting dust,  
All flesh obeys their silent lust.  

Oh, gods of hollow, gods of lies,  
I spit at heaven, sever the ties.  
Death’s cold hand, your gift, your blight,  
I walk in shadows, shun your light.  

Each fleeting friend, each whispered breath,  
Falls to the chains you forge in death.  
Your temples rise, your statues gleam,  
Yet life decays within your scheme.  

No psalm shall praise, no candle burn,  
For I will turn your gifts to urn.  
The void is kinder than your throne,  
I walk alone — forever alone.  

Oh, gods of hollow, gods of lies,  
I spit at heaven, sever the ties.  
Death’s cold hand, your gift, your blight,  
I walk in shadows, shun your light.  

If I believed, my hands would tear,  
The world you built, the cursed air.  
Your stars, your skies, your sacred breath,  
Would rot beneath my scornful death.  

If gods were real, I’d curse their name,  
For weaving death, for crafting pain.  
I walk unblessed, I walk unmade,  
Beyond your reach, beyond your shade.

If gods were real, I’d curse their name

Elusive Veil

While I kept living in the shadows I was missing the sun Realising far too late You were the one

If I had heard you knocking Boy I would’ve opened the door I would not have kept you Waiting anymore

It was over before I Could ask the boy to stay Mighta kept him here in front of me If I knew he’d walk away

I couldn’t see you in front of me Too blind to know we were meant to be I got a habit of finding out the hard way When I’m wrong

Thought I was stronger when I’m alone Not hurting more than I’d ever known I bet they’d tell me I’m crazy I’m not right where I belong

I’d overthink a bit, 
I’d overthink of everything Every choice I’d make 
I’d keep on questioning 
You didn’t need to worry 
‘bout my worrying No you couldn’t be certain 
I could beat uncertainty

It was over before I Could ask the boy to stay Mighta kept him here in front of me If I knew he’d walk away

I couldn’t see you in front of me Too blind to know we were meant to be I got a habit of finding out the hard way When I’m wrong

Thought I was stronger when I’m alone Not hurting more than I’d ever known I bet they’d tell me I’m crazy I’m not right where I belong

I couldn’t see you in front of me Too blind to know we were meant to be I got a habit of finding out the hard way When I’m wrong
Thought I was stronger when I’m alone Not hurting more than I’d ever known I bet they’d tell me I’m crazy I’m not right where I belong

Music and Lyrics by Tom Hall ©️2025

In Front of Me

CONFITEOR

The clock strikes, the world turns cold
Veil is thin, secrets unfold

Shadows crawl beneath the sky
Moonlight bleeds, stars will die
Silent winds begin to howl
Spirits wake, they prowl and prowl

Witching hour, the veil is torn
Magic rises, spirits mourn
Heed the call, it’s time to roam
Step inside, leave flesh and bone

Voices whisper from the deep
Nightmares stir while mortals sleep
Candle flames flicker and die
Eyes that watch you, dead and dry

Witching hour, the veil is torn
Magic rises, spirits mourn
Heed the call, it’s time to roam
Step inside, leave flesh and bone

Cold winds blow, the spirits sigh
Souls ascend, the dead don’t lie

Fingers twitch, the air is thick
Witches chant, the moon’s a flick
Gather ‘round, the ritual’s near
In this hour, there’s naught to fear

Witching hour, the veil is torn
Magic rises, spirits mourn
Heed the call, it’s time to roam
Step inside, leave flesh and bone

The clock strikes, the world turns cold
Veil is thin, secrets unfold

Witching Hour

"Funny Looking Flowers" [11.03.25]
written by Jack Miller 
J Dulva and Counting Coup 
(c) 2025 Cenote Music

Funny Looking Flowers

Funny Looking Flowers [11.03.25]

[Intro]

[Verse 1 — machine-gun cadence]

Woke up, no sleep, coffee’s cold, car late,
Emails stacked, bills due, daycare, tailgate.
Dropped keys, spilled lunch, ran red, heart crash,
Boss texts, dog pukes, missed call, no cash.
School notes, cracked phone, sprinting, still trying,
Mom calls, “quick favor,” sure—now I’m dying.
Dishes, deadlines, meetings, repairs,
My whole damn life is a fire I wear---

(heh, and it's just Tuesday---)

[Pre]

And babe you stroll in like your world’s on fire—
because someone told you “hold please” for just a little while.

[Chorus]

So go ahead babe, put up your feet,
You’ve had a hard day spinning in your seat.
Tell me all about that phone call that wasn’t fair,
Me? I’ll carry every other thing you swear’s “not there.”
Yeah baby, I can take the hit, I can run the race—
but don’t be shocked tomorrow if you don’t see my face.
I need one damn day without your blank stare—
just give me time spinning in my chair.


---

⭐ [Verse 2 — new wave of chaos, still Tuesday]

Tire’s low, fridge leaks, texts beep, kids fight,
Traffic jam, late fee, wrong form, rewrite.
Printer jammed, screen froze, laptop meltdown,
Lost receipt, flat shoe, sweat stains, countdown.
Grocery bags, burnt toast, change plans, refuel,
Thermostat, plumber, PTO, carpool.
Still breathing? maybe. sanity? rare—
and babe… it’s STILL Tuesday, I swear.

[Pre]

And you walk in sighing like you’re crushed and wrecked—
because your coworker “didn’t show enough respect.”

[Chorus]

So go ahead babe, put up your feet,
You’ve had a hard day spinning in your seat.
Tell me all about that phone call that wasn’t fair,
Me? I’ve been juggling flaming chainsaws in the air.
Yeah baby, I can take the hit, I can run the race—
but don’t be shocked tomorrow if I need some space.
I’m not your mule, your maid, or your spare—
just give me time spinning in my chair.


---

⭐ [Bridge — low and dangerous]

I get you, but damn,
I’ve been carrying storms.
You crack at breezes,
I bend to reform.
I show up, stand up,
fight through the wear—
but even hurricanes
need their own air.


---

⭐ [Final Chorus — screamed]

So go ahead babe, recline like a king,
Cry ‘bout your meeting and every small thing.
I’ve done a week’s work before noon with no flair—
and somehow you’re proud you “survived” a swivel chair.
Yeah baby, I can take the hit, but I won’t stay there—
tomorrow I’m gone—
I’ll be spinning in MY chair.



Spinning In My Chair

krák

Tätt tillsammans i vinternatten
Försök hålla värmen inombords
I morgonljuset sida vid sida
Med våra vingar flyger vi imot skyn

Genom livets mörka vinternätter
Sida vid sida återvänder vi till livet
Oändligheten ljus ska för evigt lysa
Med  gudomliga vingar försvinner vi igenom kylan 

  Vi är vinden 
   Vi är kylan
    Vi är värmen
     Vi är kraften

I mörkret vi flyger igenom skogen Mot den gamla himlen i Norr
Vi är den eviga kraften ingen kan förneka
Vi är fria, vi är menade att vara



Close together in the winter night
Try to keep the warmth inside
In the morning light side by side
With our wings we fly towards the sky

Through life's dark winter nights
Side by side we return to life
The infinite light shall forever shine
With divine wings we disappear through the cold

 We are the wind 
  We are the cold
   We are the heat
    We are the force

In the darkness we fly through the forest Towards the old sky in the North
We are the eternal power no one can deny
We are free, we are meant to be

Oss-krák

Surrounded by lies

What Has Been and What Will Be is the title track from my forthcoming album of the same name.

Would you do it all again
If it meant that everything
would be exactly the same

For all the good and bad
Would you change anything?
Or live it just the same way
Over and over again?

If you take a look around
It's not always as it seems
Living in a bubble
that's coming apart at the seams

So maybe I'd change a few things
Maybe think a little more
About what will be
Less about what went before

Do you think it could be better?
Or is human fault baked in?
I've got to believe it could be

There's a whispering within
when you stop shutting out the world
It says it’s too late to go again
But it's never to late to begin

Caught in-between
What has been
And what will be
We can't intervene
In what has been
But we can write what will be

Spinning In My Chair

Jeremy Brown