عمرو حسن

بلدى الحبيبة

ميكس - عبدالرحمن محمد

This is the moment everything breaks open.
Not with anger.
Not with rage.
But with joy so unashamed it shakes the concrete.

“The Laughter Uprising” is the sound of fear losing its grip.
The world tried to quiet us down;  tried to make happiness feel naive, childish, weak.
But joy fought back.
And it won.

This track is victory without violence.
Triumph without arrogance.
A revolution led by open hands, bright eyes, and hearts that refuse to dim.

When laughter becomes courage…
When kindness becomes a movement…
When we choose color over gray, even in the middle of grief…
That’s the uprising.

This song is the banner.
This song is the march.
This song is the roar of hope coming back to life.

The world is invited.
No tickets.
No gatekeepers.
Just step into the light and sing.

Laughter Uprising

Official Audio from - 💿FireCrown Records

Associated Performer: Ēlijaħ
Composer, Lyricist: Ēlijaħ
Associated Performer, Background Vocal, Producer: GarageBand
Composer, Lyricist, Additional Studio Producer, Producer: Ēlijaħ Jackson
Synthesizer, Mixing Engineer: FireCrown Studios
Producer: Detail
Composer, Lyricist: Ēlijaħ
Producer: FireCrown_Films
Composer, Lyricist: Elijaħ
Composer, Lyricist, Producer: Ēlijaħ
Composer, Lyricist: Ēlijaħ
Producer: Ēlijaħ "Detail" Jackson
Composer, Lyricist: Ēlijaħ
Mixing Engineer, Recording Engineer: Garage Band
Composer, Lyricist: Ēlijaħ
Engineer: “Detail”
Mixing Engineer: Garage Band
Mixing Engineer: Garage Band
Assistant Engineer: Ēlijaħ
Assistant Engineer: Ēlijaħ
Mastering Engineer: Ēlijaħ
Mastering Engineer: Ēlijaħ

Auto-generated by SoundCloud.

I Can Feel Your Vibe

Kitchen lino is a glacier at two in the morning, 
We’re sitting cross-legged, ignoring the warning.
That sleep is for people who have their lives sorted,
Not for the ones whose grand plans got aborted Or paused,
or rewritten in biro on palms.

You’re dissecting the silence with minimal qualms,
Drawing Venn diagrams in the grease of the box,
Wearing nothing but anxiety and odd-coloured socks.

You say, 
“If I am me, and you are just you, 
Then what is the substance that binds us as two? 
Is it sticky?
Is it magnetic?
Is it just the rent?”

I say,
“Star, pass the salsa, your logic is bent.”

But you’re digging in deep, archaeology of the soul,
Trying to find where the two of us make up a whole.
The toaster is listening, the kettle’s confused,
By the strange attractors that we’ve introduced.

But don’t give me multiple-choice feelings tonight,
I’m too tired to tick boxes or prove that I’m right.
We’re a thesis untitled, a blurred-out design,
Two distinct messy chaotic lines. 

And you’re asking for definitions, for strict boundaries,
Like we’re nations at war or undiscovered countries.
But if ‘us’ is a concept, a thought in the air,
Why does it feel heavy when I stroke your hair?

It’s Impostor Syndrome, that’s what it is,
Playing house in a hoodie that smells like the fizz Of cheap lager and fabric conditioner, sweet.

We’re waiting for the grown-ups to walk down the street And tell us to clear off,
to pack up our toys,

That love isn’t meant for lost girls and loud boys.
But nobody’s coming, the streetlights are dead,
And there’s a terrified quiet hanging over the bed.

And there’s a variable X that we haven’t quite plotted,
A tiny expansion, a calendar dotted.
Biology’s rude, doesn’t ask for a permit,
While we’re living like monks, like a two-person hermit.

You trace a shape on the floor with your thumb, Say,
“Does the equation change if a third one comes?”
A unknown integer, a ghost in the math,
Changing the slope of our whole draft… 
I mean, path.
Freudian slip in the aftermath.

So don’t give me multiple-choice feelings, okay?
The syllabus changed while we looked the other way.
We’re the thesis expansion, a terrifying design,
Tangled up knots in this timeline.

And you’re asking for structure, for a solid concrete,
Something to stand on with two shaky feet.
But if ‘us’ is a theory, abstract and rare,
Why is there tangible weight in the air?

Descartes never had to pay council tax bills,
Or wonder if nausea is fear or just ills.

Sartre sat in cafes, he didn’t sit here,
Watching the future subtly appear.

philosophers broke on the edge of what is known,
Turning our silence to credits on a pay-as-you-go phone.

You look at me, eyes wide, knees in a heap
“Are we ready?” you whisper

“Or are we asleep?”

I say, “Look at the window, the condensation,”

It’s holding the street in a wet suspension.
We don’t need a word for the thing that we are,
Whether a binary system or a neutron star.
It’s the warmth of your knee pressing into my side,
This ontology I can only abide.

It’s the way that you breathe when the panic sets in,
And the way I breathe out where your breaths begin.

So scrap all the multiple-choice feelings, my star,
The answer is distinct if slighly bizarre.
No chart for this living, a chaotic design,
Your hand sweating gently holding onto mine.

No need a map for this territory,
No tools of trade in our inventory.

Closer scoot under the sheet of rain.
To feel you so close,
I Shall not abstain.

Drenched in this station,
waiting for the bus.
This is,
clearly,
an ontology of us 

Yeah, the silence sounds plenty enough like an us.

ontology of us

الحكاية بأختصار .. اول قصيدة اسمعها ع نجوم اف ام من عمرو حسن ويمكن هيا اللي حببتني ف الشعر وخليتني اكتب و كان اول ديوان اجيبه شعر وبالصدفة .. يمكن هو اللي اختارني مش انا اللي اختارته كان سيلفي اللي فيه القصيدة دي .. اقرب ديوان لقلبي ويمكن كلام عمرو حسن اقرب كلام بيوصل قلبي .. ليه معرفش بس حساني لونه ف الشعر لو بقيت حاجة كويسة فيه ^^ اسمعوها ويارب تعجبكوا .. حاجة ع قدي كدة ^^ بس هيا كلامتها عسولة 

الحكاية بأختصار.. عمرو حسن

هلاوس اوضه مقفوله .. سيد محمد

عمرو حسن بحبك  .. تسجيلى ❤

Friend Zone - خلينا صحاب

عمرو حسن - وحشتيني  Amr Hassan - Wahashtiny

احمد فوزي واخد علي خاطرك من الدنيا مشتاق لحاجات تاهت جواك

عمرو حسن بحبك .. تسجيلى ❤

Mohamed Elsayed

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