Je suis profondément honoré de vous offrir cette chanson venue des profondeurs de l'âme et du Cœur qui se transforme

Ce tissage conduit vers une première pièce du puzzle, où j’explore des fusions grandioses en langue française : un réveil de l’imagination appelle le réel à se redessiner. Sous nos pas, le sol se soulève et révèle une énergie enfouie ; un souffle ouvre l’instant et dilate la mesure du temps. Au centre, le nous tient dans un oui — simple, entier, opérant — et fait place à des voix multiples, celles des esprits des oiseaux qui relient les continents par leur chant. Là, chacun trouve sa place, retire ses masques, assume sa parole : une libération douloureuse, lucide et responsable.

« Nous » tient dans un oui

County Line Heartbeat

Sometimes a turning point doesn’t arrive with thunder,  it arrives with a memory.
“Echo of Reflections” is the moment Echo Wiggins finally stops running from himself. Long before he returns to La Crosse, long before he understands the dream or the watchers, this song marks the first quiet shift inside him.

It’s a confession he never says out loud,
that the boy on the riverbanks, the boy his father raised, the boy who believed in compassion and truth is still alive inside him.

This is Echo’s first real awakening.
Not mystical, not spiritual, not yet.
Just honest.
Just human.
A man in the dark admitting he’s drifted too far from who he was meant to be.

The wind that’s been whispering through the earlier songs finally takes shape here. It pushes at his back, nudging him homeward. And Echo realizes something he’s been avoiding,

Sometimes the only way forward is to turn back.

This song is the breath before the return,
the first crack in the armor,
the moment the land remembers him 
and he begins remembering it too.

[Verse 1]
I walked the halls of power
But my heart was somewhere else
A boy on riverbanks in La Crosse
who believed in something else
I traded mornings on the water
For the shadows of these walls
And now the quiet brings me back
To the place I heard my first wind-calls

[Pre-Chorus]
There’s a voice inside I buried
But it rises like a tide
And the wind behind my shoulder
Whispers where I should reside

[Chorus]
Echo of reflections calling through the trees
The river wind remembers what I used to believe
I thought I had outgrown the boy I used to be
But he’s standing in my shadow quietly
And going home might be the spark of my awakening
I feel it in the wind
An echo of reflecting

[Verse 2]
I see my father in the doorway
Dust and wisdom in his hands
Teaching truths the modern world
No longer understands
I built a path they praised me for
But something in me knows
The man I am is missing
What the boy in me still shows

[Pre-Chorus]
The life I chased is heavy
But the truth I left was light
And the wind inside my memories
Stirs a fire burning bright.

[Chorus]
Echo of reflections rising from the past
Pulling at the part of me I thought was cast
I ran so far, I lost the sound of who I was
But now the wind is whispering because
The path ahead begins where my first footsteps were taken
The river calls my name
An echo of awakening

[Bridge]
Maybe this is not undoing
Maybe this is coming home.
A gentle push from something old
Far older than I’ve known.
Not a fall from grace
But a turning of the key
The wind aligning who I was
With who I’m meant to be

[Final Chorus]
Echo of reflections guiding me once more
Pointing toward La Crosse like an open door
It’s clearer now than anything I’ve said or done
The wind is tracing circles back to where it all begun
Home is calling softly with a patient, warm direction
The wind is at my back
My echo of awakening

[Outro]
Maybe going home
Is how I move forward

Echo of Reflections

We’d love to know where this song takes you. Does it remind you of a Christmas night, a family moment, or a feeling you thought you’d lost? Please share your thoughts in the comments - your memories help keep the magic alive. ❄️✨🎄🎶

This song is a gentle Christmas night-spell - a quiet pause in the year where snow softens the world, time slows, and everything living draws close for warmth. Wrapped in lullaby calm and seasonal wonder, it reflects on passing years, family, shelter, and the fragile magic we feel in the small hours when bells chime and the world briefly holds its breath. There’s nostalgia here, tenderness, and that childlike wish to turn the clock back just a little, so the magic can last longer.

Fresh fallen snow
.....has muffled the calling sounds
of every wild creature
.....gone to ground to sleep-
sleep my babies sleep.
Keep your chill families warm.
The skies have fallen silent.
The stars have kissed the hills.
Here's where we all
.....shed one more tear
for the passing of yet another year.
This time that we invented
cannot be prevented from going on.

Hush. Don't rush.
.....Make not too much fuss.
But save yourselves
.....from the icy crush.
Huddle and cuddle.
.....Ride out the storm.
Keep your families
.....safe, loved and warm.

Fresh fallen snow
.....has muffled the calling sounds
of every wild creature
.....gone to ground to sleep-
sleep my babies sleep.
Keep your chill families warm.
The skies have fallen silent.
The stars have kissed the hills.
Here's where we all
.....shed one more tear
for the passing of yet another year.
This time that we invented
cannot be prevented from going on.

Hush. Don't rush.
.....Make not too much fuss.
But save yourselves
.....from the icy crush.
Huddle and cuddle.
.....Ride out the storm.
Keep your families
.....safe, loved and warm.

*

(chorus)
Tickety ticky-tock, tock,
the mysterious seasonal clock
is chiming out very small hours.
It's bells are asking the universe
to unleash its magical powers.
Please! Turn back time, for us all-
let us return to having a ball,
these magical times are all ours.

Tickety ticky-tock, tock,
the mysterious seasonal clock
is chiming out very small hours.
It's bells are asking the universe
to unleash its magical powers.
Please! Turn back time, for us all-
let us return to having a ball,
these magical times are all ours.

*

Hush. Don't rush.
.....Make not too much fuss.
But save yourselves
.....from the icy crush.
Huddle and cuddle.
.....Ride out the storm.
Keep your families
.....safe, loved and warm.

*

Tickety ticky-tock, tock,
the mysterious seasonal clock
is chiming out very small hours.
It's bells are asking the universe
to unleash its magical powers.
Please! Turn back time, for us all-
let us return to having a ball,
these magical times are all ours.

Tickety ticky-tock, tock,
the mysterious seasonal clock
is chiming out very small hours.
It's bells are asking the universe
to unleash its magical powers.
Please! Turn back time, for us all-
let us return to having a ball,
these magical times are all ours.

MAGICAL TIMES

Chorus Lines

I write songs by grabbing my Telecaster, playing riffs until something sparks, and then humming words. When I listen back, I pick out whatever strange words I muttered and build the lyrics from there. Most of my tracks begin as accidental messages from the subconscious. 

Once the idea’s alive, I dive into Logic: beats, bass, guitars, keys, vocals, the whole ritual. Then the “ghost in the machine” steps in and smooths things into something that used to need a London studio, a rack of gear, and a producer with major credits. 

After that, it’s back to Logic for the final battle: replacing guitars, adding new layers, pushing warmth, fatness, tape grit and shine until it feels like the version I first heard in my head.

Some songs fall out in half an hour. Some take days. They all start as chaos and somehow end up sounding surprisingly polished given their chaotic birth. 

If you like music that crawls out of the subconscious and still ends up sounding pretty good, stick around.

Chorus Lines

Marc Manor

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