My second listen and it hooked me! Nice job.

hey you know what? i love your sound 🍀

Great song, such a smooth bluesy groove. Love the guitar work and the vocal harmonies. A wonderful soundscape

This band has it down to a science - another wonderful example of their musicianship

Fabulous song, singing and playing. Had a great time listening

Super harmony and guitar work. Great tune!

Original composition.... Alejandro Gonzalez M.

Anhelus

Track written , composed and produced by Megan and VMD

Dontbotherme - Megan (VMD)

Die Liebe

A new song "Special" made by ClockTime.
Listen to it following this link:
https://share.amuse.io/track/clocktime-speranza-1

Speranza

Speranza - ClockTime

Oh, you're chained round your middle.
and you've no way of breaking.
Stare in the mirror and decide to keep faking. 
Perhaps you'd care more if you'd a much bigger stake in.
How did you end up owned?

You're like a pound shop fagin, sending others to take for.
Hardly ever get the things that you wouldn't pay for
A string of hankies with nothing on the end of.
Consider yourself well done.

Oh, you need a little something a break from the revelry. 
What you were lacking weren't  attached to a family.
Trap door open up with every man's name on.
Son, you can fall down low.

Oh, there's no escaping, it's all bought and paid for.
What would you even want to escape for?
It's not like anybody is waiting to hear from.
There's nothing to overthrow. 

You're a pound shop fagin. look what you have created.
The thing with women is they're greedy for babies.
Keep your head or you'll get caught if your lazy.
It's not like you didn't know.


Pound Shop Fagin

A song about being too set in your ways

LYRICS:

We came up the long way
Despite all the foreplay
It took us a whole day and night to perform
You did it your own way
Well, that's what the books say
The script of your old play lays tattered and torn

You live a life of analogue
In digital form
An order from a catalogue
unwrapped and unworn

Dustproof, hermetically sealed
With magnetic appeal
Apoplectic, we feel all your rage
Locked up in storage
Bad mannered and boorish
Your habit's too moreish to start acting your age

You live a life of analogue
In digital form
An order from a catalogue
unwrapped and unworn

You live a life of analogue
In digital form
An order from a catalogue
unwrapped and unworn

Analogue

BLACK FEAR

Coming soon! We pretend to be fine.
There's a fire in the wastelands. What's mine?
Waste of time.
There's a fire.
We Survive.

There's a crack in the side of the farm.
You would think that they'd run, but they stay.
Waste the light.
Avoid the night.
Stay alive. 

There's a river that's flowing with gold.
That you get, when you're good, if you're old.
Waste of life.
Taste the Night.
Stoke the fire.

All of her maybes, mistaken for definitelys.
All you can do is move on.
All of your sure things, replaced now with possiblys.
You've got no crutch to lean on.

All of his don't knows, revealed to be so lows 
That you didn't see where they came from.
All of the can does, are hollow lists of to does.
Interstellar. Toodle-oo. Now I'm gone.

There's a message we sent to the sky.
Imagine that won't be getting too far.
Trip the wire.
To the stars.
To the stars.

There's a man on the moon, and he's heating a Spoon.
As he looks sadly down on the earth.
There's a cow.
What's that now?
Holy cow.

Wee Willie runs through the town.
Crying loud as he seeks them all out.
Get to bed.
In your head.
Go to bed.

All you've got left are some rust, cans of peaches.
A pile of old vizzes and porn.
A fray bentos pie and your rosy complexion.
There's no one left you rely on. 

A bust of Beethoven, a packet of suet.
A commemorative plate, a Princess Di coin.
An overfilled ashtray, a battered red jumper.
Interstellar. Toodle-oo. Now I'm gone.

All of her maybes, mistaken for definitelys.
All you can do is move on.
All of your sure things, replaced now with possiblys.
You've got no crutch to lean on.

All of his don't knows, revealed to be so lows 
That you didn't see where they came from.
All of the can does, are hollow lists of to does.
Interstellar. Toodle-oo. Now I'm gone.

Pound Shop Fagin

SpukSchreibMaschine

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