Change

The dust don’t lie

Do You Remember?

Broken pieces

Shine Baby, Shine!

„Cracks in a Silver Moon“ ist ein traumwandlerisches Lied über Sehnsucht, Erinnerung und das Unfassbare. Zwischen Spiegelbildern, Schatten und flüchtigen Spuren erzählt der Song von einer Liebe, die nicht greifbar ist – wie Rauch im Wind oder Worte, die sich im Meer verlieren. Die Bilder sind surreal, zart und melancholisch, voller Poesie und Tiefe. Ein Song wie ein Traum, aus dem man nicht ganz erwacht.


“Cracks in a Silver Moon” is a dreamlike song about longing, memory, and the elusive. Set in a world of mirrors, shadows, and vanishing footprints, it tells the story of a love just out of reach—like smoke in the wind or ink fading on the sea. The imagery is surreal, tender, and melancholic, full of poetry and depth. A song like a dream you never quite wake up from.

Cracks in a silver moon

Back then, somewhere – it’s still echoing.

A song like a sunset memory on two wheels. “Back Then Somewhere” looks back at a time of scraped knees, first kisses, and busted speakers. A coming-of-age soundtrack full of warmth and loss, full of what-ifs and wide-eyed wonder. Somewhere between heartland vibes and highway nostalgia – this is for anyone who’s ever missed a moment that made them who they are.

Damals, irgendwo – und es hallt noch immer nach.

Ein Song wie eine Sommererinnerung auf zwei Rädern. „Back Then Somewhere“ blickt zurück auf eine Zeit voller Kratzer, erster Küsse und kaputter Lautsprecher. Eine Coming-of-Age-Hymne voller Wärme und Wehmut, voller Was-wäre-wenns und jugendlicher Sehnsucht. Irgendwo zwischen Heartland-Sound und Highway-Nostalgie – für alle, die wissen, dass manche Momente bleiben.

Back Then Somewhere

Nothing but Stories is the debut release by Sadie Quinn – a voice made of dust, distance, and memory. Blending Americana, folk, and quiet poetry, this track traces the moments we leave behind and the stories we carry with us.

With lines that feel like open roads and melodies like old letters, Sadie Quinn reminds us that fame fades, but feelings don’t.
This is a song for late-night listeners, back-porch dreamers, and anyone who ever wondered what remains when everything else is gone.

“In the end, we’re nothing but stories.”


Nothing but Stories ist die erste Veröffentlichung von Sadie Quinn – einer Stimme aus Staub, Weite und Erinnerung. Zwischen Americana, Folk und flüsternder Poesie erzählt der Song von den Momenten, die vergehen, und den Geschichten, die bleiben.

Mit Zeilen wie Landstraßen und Melodien wie alte Briefe erinnert Sadie Quinn daran, dass Ruhm vergeht – Gefühle aber nicht.
Ein Lied für Nachtschwärmer, Veranda-Träumer und alle, die sich fragen, was bleibt, wenn alles andere verschwunden ist.

„Am Ende sind wir nichts als Geschichten.“

Nothing but Stories

No One Tells You When It Starts is about the kind of change that doesn’t make a sound. A street corner, a faded memory, a version of yourself that never quite arrived — this is a story told in fragments. It’s not about the big moments, but the quiet unraveling of what once felt permanent. Some things slip away without warning. And some words stay stuck inside, long after it’s too late to say them.



No One Tells You When It Starts erzählt von den Veränderungen, die still passieren. Eine Straßenecke, eine Erinnerung, eine Version von dir selbst, die nie ganz geworden ist – dieser Song spricht von Momenten, die niemand bemerkt, und doch alles verändern. Nicht das Große, sondern das leise Verschwinden steht im Mittelpunkt. Manches geht, bevor man es merkt. Und manches bleibt ungesagt, bis es zu spät ist.


No one tells you when it starts

No Time to Run drifts through a world that forgets its shape. Clocks soften, rivers climb, the sky confesses. In stillness, the end arrives—not with thunder, but like morning light. A quiet gaze holds as everything begins to slip. No farewell. No escape. Just the turning.


No Time to Run wandert durch eine Welt, die ihre Form verliert. Uhren schmelzen, Flüsse steigen, der Himmel gesteht. Das Ende kommt nicht mit Donner, sondern wie Morgenlicht. Ein stiller Blick bleibt, während alles kippt. Kein Abschied. Kein Entkommen. Nur das Drehen der Welt.

No Time to Run

“Ashes in the Wind” is a haunting journey through a collapsing world. With images of burning hillsides, broken branches, and clocks turning backwards, the song captures the feeling of an inevitable ending — not just for one person, but for all of us. It’s a hymn of loss, silence, and fire, where every step stirs the ashes of what once was. Both intimate and universal, the lyrics leave space for listeners to find their own reflection in the wreckage.

„Ashes in the Wind“ ist eine eindringliche Reise durch eine zerfallende Welt. Mit Bildern von brennenden Hängen, zerbrochenen Ästen und zurücklaufender Zeit fängt der Song das Gefühl eines unausweichlichen Endes ein – nicht nur für einen Einzelnen, sondern für uns alle. Es ist ein Lied von Verlust, Stille und Feuer, in dem jeder Schritt die Asche dessen aufwirbelt, was einmal war. Zugleich persönlich und universell, lassen die Lyrics Raum, dass jeder Hörer seine eigene Spiegelung in den Trümmern findet.

Ashes In The Wind

There’s a silence on the hillside
Like the world forgot to breathe
Broken branches tell the story
Of the fire underneath

I see shadows carving rivers
Through the skin of open land
Every mile the ground is shaking
Like it’s pulling at my hand

And the night keeps leaning closer
Like it knows where I have been

Ashes in the wind, they’re calling
Every step I take, they’re falling
No return, no place to hide
Ashes in the wind tonight

I hear whispers in the steel rails
Hear the iron start to bend
All the clocks are turning backwards
Every road just finds its end

And the night keeps leaning closer
Like it knows where I have been

Ashes in the wind, they’re calling
Every step I take, they’re falling
No return, no place to hide
Ashes in the wind tonight

If the sky decides to open
Let the flames become the rain
I’ll be walking through the wreckage
Till the earth forgets my name

Ashes in the wind still burning
Every step I take still turning
Into something I can’t fight
Ashes in the wind tonight
Ashes in the wind tonight


Ashes In The Wind

“It Is What It Is” is a quiet, poetic reflection on loss, acceptance, and moving on.
Set to a laid-back Americana groove, the song tells a story of betrayal and resilience – without bitterness, without drama.
Just the river rolling, the wind in your hair, and the feeling that sometimes… that’s enough.

“It Is What It Is” ist ein ruhiger, poetischer Song über Verlust, Akzeptanz und das Weitergehen.
Getragen von einem entspannten Americana-Sound erzählt er von Enttäuschung und innerer Stärke – ohne Groll, ohne Drama.
Nur der Fluss, der weiterfließt, der Wind im Haar und das Gefühl: Manchmal ist das einfach genug.

It is what it is

I passed by the diner where we used to sit
Two cups on the counter, both losing their heat
Meanwhile the silence feels like a friend
It reminds me some roads just come to an end

It is what it is
No need to pretend
The river keeps rolling around every bend
I don’t owe the past
I don’t fear what I miss
I’m here, I’m alive
It is what it is

I found Betty‘s note folded under the bed
Said she loved me once, then left instead
Ran with a friend I thought I could trust
But the past is the past
And it crumbles to dust

It is what it is
No need to pretend
The river keeps rolling around every bend
I don’t owe the past
It don’t owe me a kiss
I’m here, I’m alive
It is what it is

There’s wind in my hair, the road feels clean
I’m done chasing ghosts, done asking what it means
No shadows behind me, no need to look back
Just the hum of silence, steady and black

It is what it is
I’ve got no regrets
The river keeps rolling, no signs, no threats
No pressure, no chains
No moment I miss
I’m home in myself
It is what it is


It is what it is

Saturday Night is a song about those fleeting moments when the world feels wide open and nothing else matters. Two strangers meet, sparks fly in the most unlikely places, and the city itself becomes part of the story. It’s messy and magical, full of neon light, laughter, and the kind of freedom that only belongs to Saturday night. With vivid imagery and a driving, melodic flow, the song captures the thrill of living in the moment—whether it fades or stays, it’s unforgettable.

Saturday Night erzählt von den flüchtigen Augenblicken, in denen sich die Welt unendlich anfühlt und alles möglich scheint. Zwei Fremde treffen sich, Funken sprühen an den unwahrscheinlichsten Orten, und die Stadt selbst wird Teil der Geschichte. Chaotisch und magisch zugleich, voller Neonlicht, Lachen und dieser besonderen Freiheit, die nur der Samstagabend kennt. Mit eindringlichen Bildern und einem treibenden, melodischen Fluss fängt der Song das Gefühl ein, im Moment zu leben – ob er vergeht oder bleibt, unvergesslich ist er in jedem Fall.

Saturday Night

You showed up in that thrift store tee
Spilled your drink and winked at me
The jukebox played some broken tune
But somehow it still felt like June

You danced like rules had lost their grip
Took my hand and bit your lip
The floor was sticky, time was fast
But I could feel the moment last

Saturday night, and the world’s off track
Hearts run wild, no turning back
We’re sparks in a soda can
Strangers clapping, don’t give a damn

You said, “Let’s leave before it ends”
We ran through puddles, not quite friends
A streetlight blinked, a siren sang
Your laugh cut through like guitar twang

Saturday night, with a rebel grin
You stole my hat, I let you win
The city’s buzzing, so are we
On sidewalks lit like silver sea

It wasn’t love, not yet, not quite
But something clicked in neon light
You said, “Let’s never do this right”
And I said, “Only Saturday night”

Saturday night, no maps, no guide
You leaned in close, I didn’t hide
We’re mess and magic, caught mid-flight
Who needs forever on a Saturday night?

Maybe it fades, or maybe it stays
But something woke up in the haze
Saturday night, you turned and smiled
And I forgot the world a while


Saturday Night

This World Is Wide is a song about finding beauty where nobody expects it – in broken sidewalks, in laughter on dirty floors, in scratched records that still make you dance.
It is a hymn to imperfection, a reminder that life does not shine because it is flawless, but because it burns, bruises, and still pulls us forward.

The cover captures two small details from the song: sneakers with stars drawn on them and marbles scattered on the ground. They stand for childhood, for secrets, for the little things that suddenly feel bigger than the world itself.

This is not a polished postcard.
It is a glimpse of the raw, messy, surprising world we live in – and the simple truth that we love it anyway.

This World Is Wide ist ein Song über die Schönheit an unerwarteten Orten – in rissigen Gehwegen, im Lachen auf schmutzigen Böden, in zerkratzten Schallplatten, die uns trotzdem tanzen lassen.
Es ist eine Hymne auf die Unvollkommenheit, eine Erinnerung daran, dass das Leben nicht deshalb glänzt, weil es fehlerlos ist, sondern weil es brennt, schürft und uns trotzdem weiterzieht.

Das Cover greift zwei Details aus dem Song auf: Sneaker mit aufgemalten Sternen und Murmeln, die auf dem Boden verstreut liegen. Sie stehen für Kindheit, für Geheimnisse, für kleine Dinge, die plötzlich größer wirken als die Welt selbst.

Dies ist keine glatte Postkarte.
Es ist ein Blick auf die rohe, chaotische, überraschende Welt, in der wir leben – und auf die einfache Wahrheit, dass wir sie trotzdem lieben.

This World Is Wide

I saw a boy trading marbles for secrets
I saw a girl drawing stars on her sneakers
And I thought
Damn… this world is wide

Graffiti bleeding on a church wall
Street preacher shouting, no one stops at all
A saxophone crying through an open door
Two kids laughing on a dirty floor
And isn’t that beautiful?
Isn’t that wild?

Nothing is perfect
But everything moves
Like a record with scratches
That still makes you groove

Life is beautiful
Not polished, not clean
It burns, it breaks
It rips at the seams
And we love it
We love it
We love it still

There’s paint on my jeans from a night without sleep
It fades like the music that sinks in too deep
A goodbye text at a quarter to three
And somehow it feels like poetry

Count the cracks in the sidewalk
Count the names carved in wood
Every scar is a story
And the stories feel good
We’re alive, alive, alive
And the mess is the proof

Life is beautiful
Not safe, not straight
It comes too early
It shows up late
It bruises your knees
It tangles your hair
And still
You want more
And still
You want more

I saw a boy trading marbles for secrets
I saw a girl drawing stars on her sneakers
And I thought
Damn… this world is wide


This world is wide

“Missed That Train” is a reflection on the moments we let pass us by — not just a train pulling out of a station, but all the small chances, words, and decisions that quietly shape a life.
Written like a conversation with time itself, the lyrics unfold as a personal journey through regret, memory, and subtle acceptance.
It’s about standing still while the world moves on — and realizing, maybe too late, what that silence really meant.
Poetic but grounded, the words stay with you — like the sound of something you almost caught… and didn’t.

„Missed That Train“ erzählt vom Verpassen – nicht nur eines Zuges, sondern ganzer Möglichkeiten, Worte, Momente, die ein Leben prägen.
Der Songtext wirkt wie ein leises Gespräch mit der Zeit: ehrlich, bildhaft, nachdenklich.
Es geht um das Innehalten, während alles andere weiterzieht – und um die späte Erkenntnis, was dieses Innehalten wirklich bedeutet hat.
Ein Song über Reue, Erinnerung und die Kunst, loszulassen, ohne sich selbst zu verlieren.

Missed That Train

Saw the red lights blinkin’, platform 9
Hands in my pockets, just killing time
How fast it goes when you look away
Just a blink, and that steel bird flew away

It wasn’t just a train, you know what I mean
It was twenty-seven chances I’ve never seen
A road trip I never took at nineteen
A kiss I skipped, too scared to be seen

I missed that train, and I miss a lot more
Like the look in your eyes when you opened the door
Like the song we never danced to in July rain
Yeah, I missed that train… and I’d do it again

Used to think life waits, but it don’t
It hums down the tracks, whether you come or you won’t
And the station clears out when the moment’s gone
Silence louder than a goodbye song

I saw a crow where your shadow stood
It looked at me like you once would
I stepped, then froze – the sky turned gray
And nothing moved… but time, anyway

I missed that train, and I miss a lot more
Like the words you whispered, like your coat on the floor
Like the dream I let die in the morning gray
Yeah, I missed that train… and it slipped away

Now I walk by tracks like a ghost in a frame
Still chasing smoke, still cursing my name
Some doors close, some don’t make a sound
But that train…
It never slowed down


Missed That Train

“The Quiet Wars” looks inward, turning life’s invisible battles into poetry. It’s about the fights no one sees — the moments when you face yourself, your doubts, and your ghosts in the quiet light of everyday life. Through soulful grit and heartfelt honesty, it speaks of resilience, loss, and the fragile strength that keeps us standing even when no one’s watching. A song for those who keep going, still fighting, still here.

„The Quiet Wars“ richtet den Blick nach innen und verwandelt die unsichtbaren Kämpfe des Lebens in Poesie. Es geht um die stillen Schlachten, die niemand sieht – um die Begegnung mit sich selbst, den eigenen Zweifeln und den Geistern der Vergangenheit. Mit gefühlvoller Ehrlichkeit und rauer Seele erzählt der Song von Stärke, Verlust und dem leisen Mut, weiterzumachen, auch wenn keiner hinsieht. Ein Lied für alle, die immer noch kämpfen – und immer noch da sind.

The Quiet Wars

There’s a soldier in the mirror
She’s got my eyes, but not my soul
She’s fighting ghosts that disappear
Every time I lose control

There’s a preacher on the TV
Selling comfort by the pound
And I wonder if he’d know me
If ever all the lights went down

Truth ain’t clean, it’s cut and scarred
Like a mirror in the dark

All the quiet wars I fight
Never make it to the news
Just a battle in the mirror light
Where I win and always lose

So I walk down 9th and Houston
Past the cafe, past the bar
All the voices sound like headlines
And I’m not sure who we are

But love still hums beneath the static
Like a record full of grace
And the song plays on, erratic
Till it finds a resting place

All the quiet wars I fight
Never make it to the news
Just a battle in the mirror light
Where I win and always lose

Still fighting, still losing
Still here


Change

BRO