Classic story of romantic break up and heart break. Woman laments loss of her love so she does what many people do: sits in her apartment drinkin' and smokin' and feelin' alone. Nice lyrics and instrumentation in my view. What do you think? 

Smokin' Drinkin' Feelin' Alone

Smoking Drinking Feeling Alone

When I was a child, 
one old man told me
"Old days ain't like they once were
Back then, we had one Billy the Kid
Now, this country is full of them"

"Full of them," he said
Full of them
Full of them

These days, all these young folks say
Things were simpler in their grandpa's day
You didn't need all them ten-dollar words
Back when they had just one Billy the Kid
Now, this country is full of them

Full of them, they said
Full of them
Full of them

When I was a child, 
one old man told me
"Old days ain't like they once were
Back then, we had one Billy the Kid
Now, this country is full of them"

Full of them, he said
Full of them
Full of them

Full of them
Full of them

Track from the album "Send In The Clowns"

Send In The Clowns

Billy The Kid

Buy at Bandcamp

I left the door open too long.
Light crawled in,
touched everything I couldn’t name.
Dust circled like old prayers,
too quiet to believe in.

Streets crack below,
each car another beat borrowed from your world.
I think of you in the reflection
not your face,
just how still the glass was after you left.

If I’m still somewhere,
it’s between stars,
in the pause between a sound and its proof.
A small, patient sound
forgetting who made it.

I walk until the sky erases the idea of destination.
Billboards speak in light I can’t translate.
The moon flickers,
as if buffering another planet’s thought.

I used to write lists of things to fix
now I just listen to silence,
wait for it to rhyme.

If I’m still somewhere,
it’s not for long.
Every error grows tired of spelling.
Every goodbye becomes a friend.

Night folds around me,
neither kind nor cruel.
Just enormous enough
to call it peace.

Still Somewhere

A quiet, cinematic folk piece built around the question of what a poppy’s colour truly means. Gentle strings and acoustic tones carry a poem of memory, sacrifice, and the weight we still carry. A reflection on war, loss, and the colours we choose to hold. Lets not fight over the colour !!

THE COLOUR OF A POPPY

Lonely girl waits under a weeping willow tree for her lover who never arrives. Heart broken she asks the willow tree to cry for her. By morning the willow tree still stands but the young woman is gone, the willow knows about the power of the flowing waters nearby...have a listen.

Weeping Willow Weep for Me

One of 12 new Christmas songs on SoundCloud Christmas playlists 2025.  This is a song about wine and how it emerges from grapes to our tables and social gatherings. Wine has an incredibly long history. This song plays homage to that history and hopefully entertains you and your friends/family at social events this year. Following are the lyrics for those interested:

WINE DANCE

[verse]

Berries glisten at morning light, sheen of dew born of night
In warmth of sun growth's begun
Color shows green to red, even gold 
At first frost grapes part the vine, merging next as nectar wine..ooh...nectar wine

[chorus]

Raise a toast to lessons past, taste ambrosia from your glass
Naught but wine has held a place where people seek both mirth and grace
Lusty red to golden white the living liquid brings delight
To we hale people all well met,  better still when lips are wet. 

[verse]

Wine brings joy when friends unite, leaving long remembered nights
With ruby red, depths are plumbed and inhibitions oft succumb  
Wine spurs thoughts we’ve never thought, some worthwhile, some are not.

[chorus]

Raise a toast to lessons past, now sip ambrosia from your glass
Naught but wine has held a place as people seek both mirth and grace.
Lusty red to golden white the living liquid brings delight
Taste this gift that for a night sends woes and cares to misty flight…woes and cares take misty flight…cares take misty flight...

Wine Dance Happy Holidays

O Gente da Minha Terra

There are moments in life when the world seems to turn its face away...when promises grow quiet, relationships fracture, dreams crumble, and we feel as though we’ve been pushed to the edges and overlooked. In those places, the enemy whispers, “You are unseen. Unwanted. Unvalued.”  

But God speaks a different word.

In the silence, He leans close and whispers:
“I see every tear you cry.”

The God of the universe is not distant from pain. Scripture tells us:
“The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
~Psalm 34:18

He is the One who defends the mistreated, lifts the lowly, and gathers the weak into His arms. Where we see ruins, He sees the beginning of restoration. Where we see broken pieces, He sees the material for glory.

Nothing in your life is wasted in His hands.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You See The Forgotten

When the world turns its face away,
And I’m left in the shadows alone,
When the promise fades into silence,
And I feel like I’ve lost my home...
Still You whisper in the darkness,
“I see every tear you cry.”
You’re the God who holds the helpless,
You don’t leave the weak behind.

Lord, You see the forgotten,
You defend the mistreated,
You take what seems hopeless
And write redemption in it.
Even my broken places
Are woven into Your story...
Your grace reaches farther,
Farther than my failures and my sorrow.

In the ashes of disappointment,
In the ruins of all I’ve dreamed,
You are sowing seeds of mercy,
Calling dead hearts to believe.
You’re the God who lifts the lowly,
Who brings beauty out of pain,
You take shame and turn it to glory...
You make deserts bloom with rain.

Lord, You see the forgotten,
You defend the mistreated,
You take what seems hopeless
And write redemption in it.
Even my broken places
Are woven into Your story-
Your grace reaches farther,
Farther than my failures and my sorrow.

Nothing wasted, nothing lost,
In Your hands it all belongs.
Every tear and every cross,
You are making right from wrong.
In the waiting, in the night,
You are still the God who fights...
For the weak and for the worn,
Every heart that feels forlorn.

Yes, You see the forgotten,
You defend the mistreated,
You take what was hopeless
And write redemption in it.
Even my broken pieces
Are lifted up for Your glory...
Your grace reaches farther,
Farther than my failures and my story.

Your grace reaches farther...
Farther than my failures.

Lyrics by Kelly Ross-Hagans
ASCAP# 933267035
From The Choir Practice Project

You See The Forgotten

Man loved woman but she left him for another guy who turns out to be not as nice or caring as he used to be. So she's sad the guy she left now sees a new opportunity to win her back...but, of course, he spent years crying, denying, and dying inside waiting for this day to come.  

Crying Denying Dying

Denying Crying Dying

Indie Pop, Dreampop, Hypnagogic Pop, Neo-Psychedelica, Chillwave, Jangle Pop, Indie Rock, Shoegaze, Bedroom Pop, Alternative

chapter one

Desert of Mirrors

The desert reflects like broken glass. Silence turns into a mirror where the traveler meets his own shadow.

The desert stretches, endless wide,
A mirror of shadows where secrets hide.
Each step echoes, a fragile sound,
In silence of nowhere, truth is found.

The sands reflect, the sky deceives,
The heart remembers what the eye believes.

In the desert of mirrors, we wander alone,
Searching for faces we’ve already known.
Every reflection a story untold,
Every illusion a truth to behold.

The horizon bends, the light divides,
Time dissolves in shifting tides.
Mirages whisper, fragile and near,
The soul awakens when the path is clear.

Through the glass of the burning air,
I see myself waiting there.

In the desert of mirrors, we wander alone,
Searching for faces we’ve already known.
Every reflection a story untold,
Every illusion a truth to behold.

The silence breaks, the shadows fall,
The desert of mirrors reveals it all.


Desert of Mirrors

MUSIC MADE IN CANADA: Music has been a large part of my life since my teen years when I started playing guitar. Used to play popular pop and country songs in bars, songs written by other artists but for past couple decades have focused entirely on writing and producing my own songs across a number of genres: pop, country, blues, and more recently dream pop and what I'm calling whiskey blues dream pop, a style that merges the two and that seems complimentary to my ear. I believe each style can sound good and give people pleasure: that's my goal in writing. Now I produce sounds featuring both male and female vocals as the lyrics dictate; variety is the spice of...well, you know. Thanks for listening.

Weeping Willow Weep for Me

Dream Pop Productions