You Don't Hear a Thing

Dealer's Choice

Hook

We need no war, we need more love,
Turn the lights on, lift us up above,
Same blue sky, one human drum—
Beat of the heart says where we’re from.
We need no war, we need more love,
Turn the hate down, turn the peace up, up.

Verse 1

I see kids paint dreams on a cardboard wall,
Names, not numbers, we can heal it all.
News talk loud, but the truth cuts through—
Every mother’s prayer sounds the same as you.
Different streets, but we share one floor,
Earth under feet, what we fighting for?
If pain’s a wave, let the kindness surf,
Plant one seed, watch it green this earth.

Pre-Chorus

Hands to the sky, let the fear fall short,
Hearts synchronized like a world-wide sport.
Turn up hope till the shadows fade,
Every single voice is a serenade.

Hook

We need no war, we need more love,
Turn the lights on, lift us up above,
Same blue sky, one human drum—
Beat of the heart says where we’re from.
We need no war, we need more love,
Turn the hate down, turn the peace up, up.

Verse 2

Flags wave bright but the blood is red,
Stories we share, same tears we shed.
Stone to a bridge, let the rivers meet,
Foot to the ground, find a common beat.
Text your neighbor, call your friend,
Peace starts small, then it never ends.
Open the door, let the daylight pour,
Love is the language we’re all made for.

Bridge (Call & Response)

Say “no more!” — No more!
Say “one world!” — One world!
Say “more love!” — More love!
Let it echo till the walls unfurl.

Hook

We need no war, we need more love,
Turn the lights on, lift us up above,
Same blue sky, one human drum—
Beat of the heart says where we’re from.
We need no war, we need more love,
Turn the hate down, turn the peace up, up.

Outro (Tag)

No lines in the sand, just hands to hold—
Future’s a fire, let the warmth take hold.
We need no war, we need more love—
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it up.

We need no war

MY LITTLE ISLAND

Dieser Song ist Teil des Albums "Maschinenherz"

Maschinenherz VIII – Menschliche Fehler

Like Water

This is Volume 5 of a series of timeless Synth-Pop Albums, meant to send you back in time.

Perfect for late-night drives, creative moments, or simply letting go, drifting lost in thought.

If you like it, dont forget to leave a like and subscribe to my channel ❤️
You can also find Sentimental Panda on Soundcloud ❤️

Half of Me

I wrote this one in third person because it wasn’t *me* talking it was the anger I’d kept locked behind my ribs for years. The version of me that shows up when the softer one’s been pushed too far. She doesn’t cry or explain; she observes. Cold. Precise. Tired of being dismissed.

Writing it that way gave me space to bleed without reopening the wound. It let my protective self speak the truth that the gentler me couldn’t say out loud. Every line is a boundary drawn in ash. Every word, a reminder that silence doesn’t equal forgiveness.

“Not a Man” isn’t revenge it’s release.
It’s me naming what broke me,
then stepping back to watch the fire burn clean.


Not A Man

Still The Snow Falls

“Streets With No Name” walks through the quiet corners of a sleepless city — a place where forgotten stories live beneath the hum of neon lights. It paints portraits of the unseen: the old man counting memories in his hands, the girl humming lost songs to herself, the boy whispering dreams no one hears. The song moves with the slow pulse of the city’s heart, where hope and weariness blend into the same soft light. It’s a tender reflection on the faces we pass every day — and the humanity that flickers just beneath the surface.

„Streets With No Name“ führt durch die stillen Ecken einer schlaflosen Stadt – dorthin, wo vergessene Geschichten unter dem Schein der Neonlichter weiterleben. Es zeichnet Bilder der Unsichtbaren: des alten Mannes, der Erinnerungen in seinen Händen zählt, des Mädchens, das sich leise an verlorene Melodien klammert, des Jungen, der Träume flüstert, die niemand hört. Der Song folgt dem ruhigen Puls der Stadt, wo Hoffnung und Müdigkeit ineinander übergehen. Eine sanfte, melancholische Beobachtung über all jene Gesichter, an denen wir täglich vorbeigehen – und die Menschlichkeit, die darunter glimmt.

Streets with No Name

Down by the arches, where the neon hums low
An old man folds paper cups in the glow
Once played trumpet in a riverboat band
Now he counts the echoes in the palm of his hand

A girl on the corner paints her dreams in dust
Her shoes are thin, and her mascara rusts
She hums to herself — the tune has no end
She lost the words when she lost her friend

And the city keeps moving, blind and wide
Like a tide that forgets who it leaves behind
But if you stop, just once, and meet their eyes
You’ll see a world that never dies

A boy sleeps under a headline stand
His mother’s face still warm in his hand
He whispers stories to the light of a train
No one listens — but he tells them again

They built glass towers where the gardens grew
Now the stars hide, but the dreams shine through
Every soul here wears a borrowed coat
Every prayer here sinks — yet floats

And the city keeps moving, blind and wide
Like a tide that forgets who it leaves behind
But if you stop, just once, and meet their eyes
You’ll see a world that never dies

So walk a while through the silent rain
Name the faces no one names
Beneath the noise, beneath the fame
Live the streets — with no name left to claim


Streets with No Name

Made in Berlin with love by Heiko Trenkle ₍^. .^₎⟆

Formless, Eternal, Unseen (Seraya Edit)

Moonlight settles on the curve of your grin,
Shadows drip along the quiet sheets.
Red-warm echoes breathe against my skin,
Taste of you lingering in every heartbeat.
Every whisper hangs soft in the air,
Moments ripen like fruit in bloom.
I chase the sweetness you left everywhere,
Tracing heat in the hush of the room.

Time drifts slow, but your flavor stays,
A pulse of warmth beneath my ribs.
Every breath hums with the rush of those days—
Dark cherry memory,
juice on my lips.

Juice on my lips — velvet sweetness sinking in,
Cherry warmth glows deep within.
Juice on my lips — soft and slow where shadows slip,
Every echo pulls me back to your kiss.
Juice on my lips — taste that lingers through the dim,
Nightfall hums with the ghost of you again.

Evening air sighs where your hands once traced,
Heat still folded into every line.
Every mark of you refuses to fade,
Cherry-stained memories blooming like wine.
Honeyed quiet clings to the dark,
Soft reminders drifting through the room.
I feel your mouth in the faintest spark,
Warmth returning in a quiet bloom.

Your name spills low between my sighs,
A tender ache I can’t resist.
Every heartbeat calls back the night—
Dark cherry memory,
juice on my lips.

Juice on my lips — velvet sweetness sinking in,
Cherry warmth glows deep within.
Juice on my lips — soft and slow where shadows slip,
Every echo pulls me back to your kiss.
Juice on my lips — taste that lingers through the dim,
Nightfall hums with the ghost of you again.

Golden heat drips through the hush,
Every pulse a gentle rush.
Soft reminders of where you’ve been,
Flavor melting on my skin.
I close my eyes and the moment dips—
Your touch returning
through the juice on my lips.

Juice on my lips — velvet sweetness sinking in,
Cherry warmth glows deep within.
Juice on my lips — shadows shimmer where memories slip,
Pulling me back to the shape of your kiss.
Juice on my lips — glowing gently through the dim,
Every breath tastes like you
again.

Streets with No Name

BRO

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