(Written by Terry Reeves)

Terry Reeves: Vocals
Gary Reeves: Drums
Hans-Michael Albers: All other instruments, arrangement & production

Illustration: 'Floating Man' by Enrique Mendez

I don’t believe in luck but I do feel very privileged to have two angels looking after me. My wife Jo and my daughter Charlotte have saved my life on three occasions keeping me alive until the ambulance arrived. I have been told that without their interventions I would not have survived.

Both have chosen not to believe in any God or indeed any outside power that can change our lives.  There may be many of you who disagree but these are the choices we make - each of us believes what we feel is best for us.  If a belief in a higher being helps give anyone’s life more meaning and guides them through each day, we have no argument with that at all.   

I think of Jo and Charlotte as my Atheist Angels.  The care they have given me during these close-to-death experiences shows what beautiful souls they are, always there for me at the time of greatest need.   

On every occasion, there were times when I truly thought that I was drawing my last breath, my existence disappearing as they fought to save me and all I could think of at the time was that, barring my brother Gal, all of my closest male antecedents died when they were just 63.  I was the same age during these episodes and I really didn’t want my name added to the sequence.  My Atheist Angels made sure that it wasn't.

Now I am 67, a proud grandfather, still around to enjoy the experience of watching my family thrive and grow.  There is another grandchild on the way later on this year and the more time I can spend with the love of my life Jo, the better and although my illness is not exactly how I planned things, I still try to enjoy every extra moment.

The continuation of ‘Cripple Club’ with Gal and Hans has been another unexpected bonus and we plan to keep going as long as we can. Here’s to the next song - I do hope you enjoy this one.   (Terry Reeves)

The whisper of a distance voice
Two angels arriving single choice
Keep breathing slow not too much
You're not leaving just stay in touch 

I’m floating yes I’m floating yes I’m floating floating away

A feeling of desperate final breath
Lonely moment no time to caress 
Fighting every 63rd dying thought
Surviving each gulp of air caught 

I’m floating yes I’m floating yes I’m floating floating away

Has time arrived to lay down still
Not accepted by two who really feel
More than one chance to live again
The Angels alongside helping pain

I’m floating yes I’m floating yes l’m floating floating away

Fight to avoid final thought of death
A fading light continues to suggest
Only time decides what, when and how
My Atheist Angels this time will not allow

I’m floating, yes I’m floating, yes I’m floating, I’m floating
I’m floating, yes I’m floating, yes I’m floating, I’m floating 
I’m floating, yes I’m floating, yes I’m floating,
Floating to stay……………………..cont

MY ATHEIST ANGELS - CRIPPLE CLUB

Orchestral music !
The entire album can be heard on all major streaming providers. It also has collaborations with SoundCloud musicians on it.

Orchetastic

Rode to the fairytale castle

Rode To The Fairytale Castle

Jack Bruce - Can You Follow?
From the 1971 solo album 'Harmony Row'.
Words by Peter Brown, music by Jack Bruce.
Arrangement ~ Nic Evennett


For Richard

Can You Follow? ~ Jack Bruce cover

Hello, beautiful people of Soundcloud

Here's yet another interpretation of this blues gem, a blend of several versions of this song that I adore.

Death Letter Blues

original song: @neowakan- Mist
---
07-06-25

Mist

Au café      (Translated after the French text )

Vidéo :   https://youtu.be/w2khMpQoAHc


Texte     :  Yves Marilier
Chant     :  Muette
Musique :  Alain Illos

Nous avions rendez-vous
à "La Petite Madeleine"
où nous étions chez nous.
Un café comme on l'aime.
C'est jour anniversaire
de la première fois,
mais tu es à la guerre
et tu ne viendras pas.

J'ai commandé un verre
comm' si tu étais là ;
peut être, je l'espère,
le vin te remplacera.
Tu veux m’écrire une lettre,
je suis venue pour ça,
s'il l’vin tourne la tête,
je crois qu'il m'aidera.

Pour essuyer le fard
qui coule de mes yeux,
je me sers du buvard,
mais je n'y vois pas mieux.
Tu n’as pas écrit une
seule ligne, tu vois,
vu que le porte-plume
se refuse à mes doigts.

J'ai bien peur que la page
ne reste toute blanche
autant que ton visage
qui pleure sur tes manches.
Mais il faut qu'elle s'en aille
te dire tout là-bas
que j'ai le cœur en bataille,
prêt à mourir pour toi. 

Ici, dans notre café
où j'ai vidé mon verre,

l'alcool fait son effet,
elle est finie la guerre
et ma lettre s'envole
pleine de mots d'amour
te dire ma joie folle.
Je rêve à ton retour.
 
Nous avions rendez-vous
à "La Petite Madeleine"
où je suis un peu soûle ;
Dépêche-toi, je t'aime !
Et fais-moi oublier
mes frissons et ma peine,
car je n'ai pas pensé
à mettre une petite laine.
Il faut que tu reviennes.

At Café 

Our appointment was
at "La Petite Madeleine"
where we felt right at home.
A café just the way we like it.
It's the anniversary
of the first time,
but you're at war
and won't be coming.

I've ordered a glass
as if you were here;
maybe, I hope,
the wine will replace you.
You want to write me a letter,
that's why I came,
if l'vin turns his head,
I think he'll help me.

To wipe the blush
from my eyes,
I use the blotting paper,
but I can't see any better.
You haven't written a single
line, you see,
since the
penholder refuses to accept my fingers.

I'm afraid the page
will remain as blank
as your face
weeping on your sleeves.
But it's got to go
tell you all the way over there
that my heart's in knots,
ready to die for you.

Here, in our café
where I've emptied my glass,

the alcohol takes its toll,
the war's over
and my letter flies off
full of words of love
telling you of my mad joy.
I dream of your return.
 
We had an appointment
at "La Petite Madeleine"
where I'm a little drunk;
Hurry up, I love you!
And make me forget
my shivers and my pain,
because I didn't think
of putting on a little wool.
You've got to come back.

Au café avec Muette

I had the very good fortune to connect with Andy H aka “Noobly” a few months ago over music that we mutually admired and we agreed to find a future opportunity to collaborate. This is the result. Noobly’s beautifully rich track, propelled by his soaring guitar work, felt like a kind of call to prayer to my ear. I tried to echo this somewhat in singing the bridge. Lyrically, just for kicks I used the Socratic Method to construct the verses (persuasion through Q&A) so that this song’s meaning becomes self-evident and hopefully more of a personal experience for each listener. Thanks for checking it out!

Prideful Pride

Do you remember the day when pride took you for its own
When a thief stole something precious in you

Do you remember the day when pride took you for its own
When a thief stole something precious in you
Did it happen when all of your friends cut you out
Was your heart set on winning something, but you lost instead
And when you were maimed did the anger in you surge
Can you mark the moment when you became someone else
Is your truth under layers of scar and combat
Are you the new thief, looting joy from everywhere

Prideful pride keeps piling on, on, on
Building your walls, can’t go wrong, wrong, wrong
Finding it hard to get along, along, along
Your pride is killing you, long before you’re gone, gone, gone

And in the end you’ll be left with nothing
A bright light that’s gone too dim
I have been in a prison of my own before, just like you
Until I let the facade fall
And was set free, free

Are things more difficult now that you are going it alone
And do you leave enough room for both your sadness and your anger
Does that wall keep scary things in, and the invaders out
Are you winning this imaginary war you think you’re fighting

Prideful pride keeps piling on, on, on
Building your walls, ’can’t go wrong, wrong, wrong
Finding it hard to get along, along, along
Your pride is killing you, long before you’re gone, gone, gone


Music/production - Noobly @ https://soundcloud.com/noobly-1
Lyrics/vocals - Todd J McLean
Artwork - Fukushima Greed, 2011 (mixed media) by Todd J McLean

Prideful Pride

Une chanson contre la violence conjugale...
A song against domestic violence...
Vocal/intro & Final text : DelhyA  https://soundcloud.com/user-945711181/tracks
Piano/Synth/Arrangement : Régis GAUBERT  musicoman@wanadoo.fr https://soundcloud.com/robspiritduo/tracks
Composer/Arrangements/Guitars/Slide : Philippe SEGUINARD
Lyrics : Guillaume DULER

Lyrics:
J'entends les cris là-haut d'une autre qui se débat , d'une femme qui pour cette fois ci n'est pas moi. Rien ne doit transparaitre , je ne dois pas laisser mes larmes couler et se frayer un chemin jusqu'à mes lèvres scellées . Et même si les bleus sous ma peau se réveillent , je dois les ignorer et agir comme si tout était pareil...
La peur de lui parce qu'un verre de trop
surtout se fondre invisible sans  mots
elle en vit par la force à coté de la vie
prisonnière isolée sans porte de sortie
cécité de son sang et de ses amitiés
ne pas parler se taire rien ne doit transpirer
se voiler d' un rideau de tissus de mensonge
triste jeu de cache cache qui consume et qui  ronge
Et il dit qu'il l'adore...Toujours un peu plus fort... jusqu'à la mort
mentir au soleil quand la lune voit tout
les nuits sont cruelles écrasées de tabous 
la honte qui maquille la vérité trop laide
qui étouffe les cris de ces appels à l'aide
accoudés au silence les sévices bien tranquilles
se prennent du bon temps ils jouent à domicile
au coupable les mains pleines de frappes de raisons
à la victime le doute de fuir sa déraison
Et il dit qu'il l'adore...Toujours un peu plus fort... jusqu'à la mort
le sourire de façade sous des tonnes de semblants
donner le change à celles comblées par leurs amants
vider ses yeux de tout ce qui pourrait trahir
ces miroirs la qui font qu'elle ne pourrait mentir
les bleus des sentiments qui lui cognent à la peau
violence d'un élément qui laisse sur le carreau
un corps vandalisé mort pour la fratrie
tombé au champ d'horreur abattu par celui
Qui disait qu'il l'adore...Toujours un peu plus fort... jusqu'à la mort
des baisers dans la gueule
caresses à poings fermés
d'un amour qui dégueule
de passions débordées
La tendresse des coups
Je ne peux les laisser atteindre ce rivage à nouveau où les vagues d'une mer intérieure continue se brisent en silence...

I can hear the cries of another woman struggling, a woman who this time is not me. I mustn't let anything show, I mustn't let my tears flow and make their way to my sealed lips. And even if the bruises under my skin awaken, I must ignore them and act as if everything were the same...
Fear of him because one glass too many
above all melting away invisible without words
she lives by force beside life
prisoner isolated with no way out
blindness of her blood and her friendships
don't talk shut up nothing must transpire
veil itself with a curtain of cloth of lies
sad game of hide and seek that consumes and gnaws away
And he says he adores her...always a little harder... until death
lie to the sun when the moon sees all
nights are cruel crushed by taboos 
shame that disguises the truth too ugly
that muffles the cries for help
crouched in silence quiet abuse
have a good time they play at home
to the guilty hands full of strikes of reasons
to the victim the doubt to flee his folly
And he says he loves her... always a little harder... until death
the facade of a smile under tons of pretence
giving the lie to those fulfilled by their lovers
emptying her eyes of anything that might betray
those mirrors that make it impossible for her to lie
the bruises of feelings pounding against her skin
violence of an element that leaves
a vandalized body dead for the siblings
fallen in the field of horror shot by the one
who said he adores her...always a little harder... until death
kisses in the face
caresses with closed fists
of a love that spews out
of overflowing passions
The tenderness of blows
I can't let them reach that shore again where the waves of a continuous inner sea break in silence...

© Philippe SEGUINARD/Guillaume DULER  Juillet 2025

La tendresse des coups ( DelhyA - Régis GAUBERT & JIM ) TRANSLATED

"May every sunrise hold more promise and every sunset more peace." ✌️

Mastering by @bahram-dashtii 🙏

Here comes the sun

Music from game „Love Letters“ made in 4 days hours for GMTK Gamejam 2025 by Nozomu Games: https://nozomu57.itch.io/love-letters

Made for the GMTK Game Jam 2025, which had 9,649 entries, this soundtrack scored 115th in Audio, putting it in the top 1.2% of soundtracks worldwide.

Love Letters (Main Theme)

Acoustic Coke

Independent singer-songwriter from Kent, UK. 
Little video introduction here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKMPLBJBK6M

'No Sheet Music' Artist. https://www.nosheetmusic.tv/artists/nic-evennett

"Evennett’s voice is a delicate mystery, warm and lustrous, yet fragile and crystalline – a bewitching blend of Kate Bush and Linda Perhacs, surrounded by dolorous, reverb-drenched piano and woven into broken-hearted balladry." Andee Connors, Pandora 

"Moving, delicate and introspective. As always, Nic Evennett's voice washes over the listener creating an incubated space I didn't want to leave."
Rapt.

Interview: 
https://cocamidemea.wordpress.com/2018/01/30/indieterria-meets-nic-evennett/

---

Part of duo Cellar Door. We're over here:
https://soundcloud.com/cdoor