2021: Oh! These are Your Days

Stuff I Like 16

Cool Pop Songs #5

ALT ROCK

SpukSchreibMaschine

Alternative 🎸

Blah Blah Blah

Cigarettes And Alcohol [2021]

Saw the weakness of my generation. 
All enjoying a bottle or two.
And who quickly progressed from those dancing young nights and then searched till their minds were shot through.
Who are sad that they're still by the ocean? But why would that be? 
Who's castles of sand crumbled right in their hands as they entered into their thirties?
Oh, these are your days and this is your life.
Pitied the best minds of his generation.
And watched as they struggled to breathe.
Who has seen them descend into madness?
Stressed out from the ordinary.
Who is glad that he lives by the ocean?
Why wouldn't he be?
Who with just a bit more education. 
Could of turned into a somebody.
Oh, these are your days and this is your life.
Your heads gone to pieces.
Give yourself a break and make a new start.
Who is sat with little miss Moffat.
Glugging down all her peaches and cream.
Who is moving on to bottles of vodka?
To get to that place more quickly. 
Who feels sad as she looks at the ocean?
And why would that be?
Who has wasted the rest and is failing the test?
Passing out never falling to sleep 
Oh, these are your days and this is your life.
So don't worry too much.
Never stood a chance right from the start.
Cos nobody told yas.
Starting drinking at Twelve. 
What did you expect?
Your heads gone to peices.
Give yourself a break and make a new start.
Before you start fading away.

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness starving hysterical naked
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake light tragedy among the scholars of war
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley death or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares alcohol and cock and endless balls
incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,
a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement.


Madness, Starving, Hysterical, Naked.

Howl At Nowt

It's a really long song. 10p mix bag and a panda pop for anyone who makes it through.

Torschlusspanik

Another long one. Trying to be cinematic. Innit.

L'america

Someday - The Strokes

Matt Hancock

Haven't Seen The Sun

Look at The Sun [Nancy Pie]

Days in the Sun

I caught you looking down your nose. When you had read my words.
With all the silly pictures where I put my head on birds.
Trouble is you think you mean something.
When you really don't mean nothing. 

Oh, I could write a song with words exactly the same as you.
But my words won't mean a thing to you.  You take me for a fool.
And you think you fucking mean something.
You really need to mean something. 

Your pretty face decayed with age and left you in the lurch.
you didn't have a character. you'd never been to church.
But you still pretend it means something.
Oh, it really fucking means something. 

Watch out, you'll give me a heart attack.
No doubt. now you have lost the knack.
Step out. hoping to find your way home.
Now you're all alone. 

Your guitar is on your shoulder and you Wear it like a hat.
Just a fashion statement that might help you pull and that.
You still pretend it means something.
Oh it really fucking means something. 

Just because I have a joke and arn't as serious as you.
That doesn't mean that my words don't count exactly like yours do.
But I don't pretend they mean something.
They really don't mean nothing. 

Yeah I use all the cliches, oh I might say in or out. 
Up-and-down, side to side, I might cry round about.
I just don't pretend to mean something.
It doesn't fucking mean something. 

Hard tack. The few things your living for 
Hatch back. Expecting nothing more.
Old hat. Hoping to find your way home.
Now you're all alone. 

Oh, I might write a song in which I'm talking to a wolf.
Because that is a word which I can easy rhyme with gulf.
Bet you wanna think that means something.
It really fucking means nothing. 

Yeah, it's as easy as finding words that rhyme with laundromat.
You could say that, bat, cat, sat, lath, rat, hat, gnat, fat, mat. 
Oh you think it fucking means something.
Yeah you think it fucking means something. 

Oh, You've been writing songs in which youre talking to the Queen.
You're creating images, you don't know what they mean.
But you think they fucking mean something.
Yeah you think they fucking mean something. 

New man, tied to a changing mat.
or pram, a dent in the place you sat.
no maam, hoping to find my way home.
now I'm all alone. 

It's not that my words don't have meaning to them like you think yours do.
It's just that I don't attach value to it like you fucking do.
Cos you think it fucking means something.
Or you think it fucking means something. 

Strike back. giving your heart away.
Give back, here's to another day,
Price tag. Hoping to find your way home.
Now your'e all alone. 

Oh I could sing I love you, oh now don't you get me wrong.
But the people that I love know it without a fucking song.
Cos it's actions that mean something. 
Your words don't mean nothing. 

Yeah there's not much point in saying things if you're not gonna follow through.
The people who shout loudest are the ones who never do.
But they still pretend it means something.
It really fucking means nothing.



Mean Something

Oh, it was alright at the start.
But then you drank too much, and things just start to slowly fall apart.
And it'll be alright in the end.
And all the other bullshit coming from your friends.

Don't talk that fucking shit to me.
You know exactly how this goes.
You can't do nothing and expect things just to change.
Been down the road.
Cigarettes and Alcohol.

You got yourself some little tart.
Kidding yourself that you're so much better than you are.
They all think you're a fucking dick.
Be better if it didn't take you years to realise it.

Don't talk that fucking shit to me.
You know exactly how this goes.
You best do something if you're wanting shit to change.
Been down the road.
Cigarettes and Alcohol.

So you pour yourself another drink,
And you're gipping in your kitchen sink.
There's empty cans hidden in every hole.

And you're kidding no one but yourself.
There's no escaping mental health.
Reflection staring back all pale and gaunt.

The fun has gone it passed you by.
Old Red eyes they don't even cry.
They only get more angry at the world.

The only solution's another drink.
Another drink and, another drink.
That familiar feeling, all safe and warm.

Don't talk that fucking shit to me.
You know exactly how this goes.
Give it three days and you'll be rid of the fucking shakes.
Been down the road.
Cigarettes and Alcohol.

Cigarettes and Alcohol [2023]

I've got the Blues

I've Got The Blues - KRT Production

No Show (Are We History)

SummerTimeLove (w/Wakeupcharlie)

If you love what you hear and want to support my creative journey, check out my Patreon for early access to new music, exclusive content, and personalized compositions.  Your support means everything! https://www.patreon.com/XyXa

Amanda

Fire Water

Website

alles, was diese stadt mal war
du bist alles, was diese stadt mal war
keiner ist mehr da, ich geh  runter zum park seh die bank 
lost in the dark, hier geh ich ohne taschenlampe lang
keine peeps kein K, es wird kalt hoffentlich werd ich nicht krank
haha
hab alles schon gesagt
hallo guten tag vielen dank

weiter in die fussgängerzone, ich weiss hier hab ich mal gewohnt.
da oben im hinterhaus, damals hat sich das noch gelohnt
alles, was die stadt mal aus gründen war
ist heut nicht mehr da

alles, was diese stadt mal aus gründen war,
ist heute nicht mehr da
alles, was hier schönes mal zu finden war,
ist heut nicht mehr da
die anderen waren billiger und touris sind 
morgen nicht mehr da
rahmschnitzel ist billiger und touris sind 
morgen nicht mehr da

schon ist alles schöne 
morgen nicht mehr da

im treppenhaus lang
es geht licht an 
und du bist schneller als ich und siehst mein gesicht an
ich kann mich nicht verstellen, 
doch es fällt heute auch wirklich nichts leicht.
was spielen wir uns vor,
wir haben doch alles erreicht.

alles was schön war
alles was in dieser stadt mal schön war
ist leider nicht mehr da

du bist alles was diese stadt mal war.


kolkhorst 2024


#slush

scamtown

was ma' schön war

wo immer du bist, wo immer du sitzt.
wen immer du auch gerade küsst.
was hat es gebracht, was hat es gemacht
wem hat es irgendwas genützt.

vergangene zeit verdammtes leid
bleibt vergangenheit
am rand ist wald in den irgend jemand rein schreit

wo immer du bist, wo immer du sitzt
wen immer du auch gerade küsst
was hat es gebracht, was hat es gemacht
wem hat es irgendwas genützt

vergangene zeit verdammtes leid
bleibt vergangenheit
am rand ist wald in den irgend jemand rein schreit

neuer morgen, mit den kippen ist vorbei
ich sitze mittendrin im wald
und geniess den rest der zeit,
yah

ich war immer gern hier
ich war immer bei mir,
für immer wie tier. und lieber warm hier,
ein zimmer mit tür, und es endete hier.

schall und rauch, hall ist drauf,
ich hau rein und alles raus.
geh einfach drauf, geh wie die sonne auf,
die ersten strahlen bleiben kalt doch dann geht es rauf

war immer gern hier,
war immer bei mir,
für immer wie tier.

wo immer du bist wo immer du sitzt
wen immer du auch gerade küsst
was hat es gebracht was hat es gemacht
wem hat es irgendwas genützt

vergangene zeit verdammtes leid
bleibt vergangenheit
am rand ist wald in den irgend jemand rein schreit

wo immer du bist wo immer du sitzt
wen immer du auch gerade küsst
was hat es gebracht was hat es gemacht
wem hat es irgendwas genützt

vergangene zeit verdammtes leid
bleibt vergangenheit
am rand ist wald in den irgend jemand rein schreit

war immer gern hier,
war immer bei dir
für immer wie tier
und immer bei ir

wo immer du bist wo immer du sitzt
wen immer du auch gerade küsst
was hat es gebracht was hat es gemacht
wem hat es irgendwas genützt

vergangene zeit verdammtes leid
bleibt vergangenheit
am rand ist wald in den irgend jemand rein schreit

wo immer du bist wo immer du sitzt
wen immer du auch gerade küsst
was hat es gebracht was hat es gemacht
wem hat es irgendwas genützt

vergangene zeit verdammtes leid
bleibt vergangenheit
am rand ist wald in den irgend jemand rein schreit

war immer gern hier
war immer bei mir
für immer wie tier
für immer bei mir
ya

kolkhorst 2024

#kolkhorst #new_wave

hemden

hemden (mit wem pt4 )

If Time Was Real

**Laxá & Heima Kvartett - "1 Ket"**  Dreamy Post Rock

A contemplative journey through light and shadow, "1 Ket" unfurls with delicate, melodic guitar patterns that glimmer like the first rays of sunlight breaking through a misty horizon. The strings of the Heima Kvartett weave a luminous tapestry, their rich harmonies gently ebbing and flowing like waves meeting a quiet shore. Slow, driving drum beats pulse steadily beneath the surface, grounding the ethereal atmosphere while subtly propelling it forward.  

Each note feels like a breath, suspended in time, as the piece builds with a tender patience, evoking a profound sense of introspection and longing. Laxá & Heima Kvartett deliver a masterclass in restraint, crafting a soundscape that is as much about the spaces between the notes as the melodies themselves. "1 Ket" is a dream wrapped in sound—a delicate balance of melancholy and hope, perfect for moments of quiet reflection.  

1 Ket by Laxá [Dreamy Post Rock]

Lyrics (Lennon/McCartney)

Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.

Hey Jude, don't be afraid.
You were made to go out and get her.
The minute you let her under your skin,
Then, you begin to make it better.

And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain.
Don't carry the world upon your shoulders.
For well, you know that it's a fool who plays it cool.
By making his world a little colder.

Hey Jude, don't let me down.
You have found her, now go and get her.
Remember to let her into your heart,
Then you can start to make it better.

So let it out and let it in, hey Jude, begin.
You're waiting for someone to perform with.
And don't you know that it's just you, hey Jude, you'll do,
The movement you need is on your shoulder.

Hey Jude, don't make it bad.
Take a sad song and make it better.
Remember to let her under your skin,
Then you'll begin to make it better.

Better better better better better better, oh.
Na na na nananana, nannana, hey Jude...

Hey Jude [The Beatles Cover]

Track's lyrics were written by Badtripp Inc and the music came to be by try and retry for hours the Suno AI. A song about the horrors that changes soldiers: "They don't come back right"

Soldier, universal

Boris puts whiskey on the side and thinks he'll call it a day. 
His Rupert the Bear pyjamas have seen much better days. 
There's a shit stain on the front because he's worn them both ways.
He stares into the void. 
He takes another line. 
And writes the words; hands, face, space.

Morning comes. 
Check the news to see if covid's gone away.
His bloody nightmare looks like it is here now to stay.
His suit is stained from the stew Carrie made yesterday. 
He takes another line. 
His hair is out of line. 
He writes the words; hands, face, space.

You all must be blind.
To keep saying, "He's doing the best he can."
You all must be blind.
To keep saying, "He's doing the best he can."

You all must be blind.
To keep saying, "He's doing the best he can."
You all must be blind.
To keep saying, "He's doing the best he can."

I'm not aware of the rules. 
They change them three times a day. 
Old people sit at the park. 
Telling you to stay away.
Take some pictures and post them. 
Saying, "How's this okay?"
We're all just looking for... 
We're all just looking for... 
We're all just looking for ways... out. 


Boris's Nightmare

Hot night. A quiet float into memory, distance, and time that no longer flows.
"Twenty-Two Dreams" is a nocturnal dream-loop — minimal, melancholic, and soulfull. Written in the heat of a sleepless night, it traces the soft collapse of waiting, remembering, and endlessly looping back to the one heartbeat question:

“Where are you?”

This is a track for late hours, faded lights, and the space between love and loss.

22 Dreams

Lyrics:
its been a year and its been long,
we were so close, so what went wrong, 
we used to fight but nothing like this,
did you change, or I, are we just kids, 
playing adults trying to be, 
something we're not, are we naive,
am I to blame for where we are now please, 

don't you go to leave, 
coz I'm still here and I've been clear on what I, 
know we need,
and I'm still fighting, I'm still trying to, 
slow the bleed,
but its not fair coz you don't care when you, 
go to leave, when you go to leave,

I know that you truly believe, 
that I can fly over the seas, 
so tell me why it feels like to me, 
that long ago you gave up on me,
you told me you felt so alone, 
and when we met you found a home,
so tell me when were you lying to me?

don't you go to leave, 
coz I'm still here and I've been clear on what I, 
know we need,
and I'm still fighting, I'm still trying to, 
slow the bleed,
but its not fair coz you don't care when you, 
go to leave, when you go to leave,

don't you notice me, 
how I'm still trying, you're still lying, 
don't you notice me,don't you notice me, 
don't you notice me,
how I'm still trying, you're still lying, 
when you go to leave, when you go to leave, 

go to leave, 
coz I'm still here and I've been clear on what I, 
know we need,
and I'm still fighting, I'm still trying to, 
slow the bleed,
but its not fair coz you don't care when you, 
go to leave, when you go to leave,

leave (don't go)

Recorded Live Sunday 11th April 2010

Carl Mercer - Vox/Gtr2
Luke Thomas - Gtr1
Dan Whitehouse - Bass
Andy Skryme - Drums

Last Night (The Strokes)

Tourist History

What You Know

Something Good Can Work

Cover by Pineapple Express recorded at Decibel Institute: 
Vocals, Rythm Gtr - Bryan Isaac Venegas
Bass - Isaac Nerio
Guitar - Gerardo Zavala
Drums - Jose Luis Paredes
Recording -  Roberto Villalvir 
Mix - Juan Ordoñez

Send me a message if you are interested in recording a cover song like this, or better yet, your own music.

All credits to original composer. 


The Strokes - Reptilia

We are the music makers. We are the dreamers of dreams.



