Daily Drops

Ain't That Like My Masterpiece

Generation +/ - Love

“Hope-Town Mermaid”  by Luke

Keys & Piano & Synthesizer & Drums  by Luke
Created & Composed & Produced by Luke
Music & Track & Album Photos by Luke
Photography by Luke
Beats by Luke©️
Luke  H.  S c h ü ß m a n n©️

“Hope-Town Mermaid” by Luke

Cerulean

Audrey

The next single off A New Era & Nothing More, the second album from Arcane Synthetic currently in progress. Featuring Jonathan Ashwell from Skitch Hiker on electric guitar and bass.

Inheritance & Cult

The next single off A New Era & Nothing More, the second album from Arcane Synthetic currently in progress. A collaboration with Lost Cause Industry.

The First Sign, David's Dream & Electric Sheep

karla lynette co written with Jim Armstrong 


original...day dream away

Highlands and Islands

 Is it the pen that bleeds the words
Or the voice that soars like unseen birds
Is it the beat that shakes the ground
Or the silence that wraps the sound

The heart of a song

If you like the music please share & subscribe, thanks!

https://youtu.be/ylIhoU22ulo - Full Music Video
https://www.youtube.com/@theartificialhomewreckers
https://soundcloud.com/theartificialhomewreckers
https://open.spotify.com/artist/0TuHLZaDhxt6bLGZGKukJ7
https://music.apple.com/us/artist/the-artificial-home-wreckers/1787896253
https://theartificialhomewreckers.bandcamp.com/
https://theartificialhomewreckers.com/

---Lyrics---
[Verse 1]  
Rolled in wearin’ boots that seen better days,  
Denim torn like the roads I blaze
Old V-twin hummin’ gospel blues,  
Gravel kicks up like Sunday news.  
Shame in a flask of black-label rye,  
Parked by the steeple, let a sinner try.  
[Chorus ]
I’m layin’ chrome at the chapel gate,  
Hands on the tank, beggin’ Heaven to wait.  
Ain’t got silver, silk, or luck—  
Just a busted heart and an empty truck.  
Let the whiskey be the wafer, the weight be the wine;  
If I pour it in the dust, redraw my line.  
Pull me back from that moonlit flood—  
Here I stand, red-clay and blood. 
[Verse 2]
Most folks whisper when they talk my name,  
Bar-room legend with a lonesome flame.  
Bottle’s been my barn-dance friend,  
Two-step devil with a crooked grin.  
Tried quittin’ cold, but the cold got warm,  
Now I’m knockin’ where the prayers are born. 
[Chorus ]
I’m layin’ chrome at the chapel gate,  
Hands on the tank, beggin’ Heaven to wait.  
Ain’t got silver, silk, or luck—  
Just a busted heart and an empty truck.  
Let the whiskey be the wafer, the weight be the wine;  
If I pour it in the dust, redraw my line.  
Pull me back from that moonlit flood—  
Here I stand, red-clay and blood. 
[Bridge]
Dust on the hymnbook, tear on the page,  
Fiddle cries soft like a front-porch sage.  
If mercy’s a river, let it rise and run,  
Wash this outlaw ’til the battle’s won. 
[Chorus ]
I’m layin’ chrome at the chapel gate,  
Hands on the tank, beggin’ Heaven to wait.  
Ain’t got silver, silk, or luck—  
Just a busted heart and an empty truck.  
Let the whiskey be the wafer, the weight be the wine;  
If I pour it in the dust, redraw my line.  
Pull me back from that moonlit flood—  
Here I stand, red-clay and blood. 

---Story---
They say the night still smells like gasoline an’ cheap rye down at Sparrow Fork, right where the black-top spits ya straight into Pine-Needle County. That stretch of road’s darn near a legend ’round here, ’cause that’s where Boone “Chrome” McCafferty finally slammed the kickstand on his shovelhead Harley and dragged his sorry hide up to St. Brigid’s chapel—chrome so bright the sunrise bounced off it like wildfire.

Boone weren’t no choirboy, not by a dang mile. Folks knew him as a bar-room wolf with a busted grin, packin’ more warrants than church stamps. He’d spent twenty-odd years swappin’ prayers for poker chips, so when the jukebox quit singin’ and his best friend Jack Daniels started talkin’ back, Boone figured the devil done called in the tab.

But it’s funny how a song gets stuck in your craw. One night, him half lit on barrel-strength hope, that new country track—“Chrome at the Chapel Gate”—come blastin’ through a dented ’78 pickup outside. The hook punched him square: I’m layin’ chrome at the chapel gate, hands on the tank, beggin’ Heaven to wait. Boone chuckled first, then felt it claw at his gut. Turns out a melody can feel like a barrel to the chest when it’s pointin’ at the truth.

So he lit out before dawn, ridin’ south through whippin’ wind and thunder so big it sounded like God cockin’ a twelve-gauge. No saddlebags, no map—just a half-dry flask and a story itchin’ to change its endin’.

By sunrise, his tires rolled over the white gravel lane headin’ to St. Brigid’s—the old clapboard chapel that sits crooked on a hill like a tired mother. Boone killed the engine. The hush felt heavier’n iron. Cicadas hissed. A lone crow razzed him from a cross-beam. He figured Heaven sent hecklers...

The rest can be found on the website, link up top.

Chrome at the Chapel Gate

The Shifting Sands

A reimagining of this song using Suno, slightly edited in Audacity. A garage recording of this song also uploaded to S/C

Get On Your Bike - instrumental remix

Wonderful Waste (Marvin Shelton)

Verse
I know I have changed
Since her and I met
My life rearranged
friends don’t understand it

They say, “boy, you’re just wasting your time”

CHORUS
Well, I could blow my cash on liquor and beer
Hang with the guys, doing nothing round here
Making Friday night trouble cuz we’re messing around
Come Saturday morning, I’m the talk of the town
if nothing is worse than loving on her, Oh my
What a wonderful waste of time

VERSE
I ain’t seen a game in weeks
But I’m the one winning
I’d rather walk on the beach
I guess I’m admitting

that I don’t think she’s a waste of my time

CHORUS
Well, I could blow my cash on liquor and beer
Hang with the guys, doing nothing round here
Making Friday night trouble cuz we’re messing around
Come Saturday morning, I’m the talk of the town
if nothing is worse than loving on her, Oh my
What a wonderful waste of time


CHORUS
Well, I don’t blow my cash on liquor and beer
Hang with the guys, doing nothing round here
I like Friday night cuddles and messing around
Come Saturday morning, We're the talk of the town
if nothing is worse than loving on her, Oh my
What a wonderful waste of time
Yeah, What a wonderful waste of time

Wonderful Waste

Heavy Punk Rock 'n' Roll band turns into Synthwave nowadays! Brand NEW album "Ultraviolet Cosmos" available NOW!
https://shockthealgorithm.bandcamp.com/album/ultraviolet-cosmos

PLEASE NO PROMOTERS or VIDEO PLEASE. I DO MY OWN ! 
All new songs are real vocals and voices are not ai assisted. 
Mairidh Gaol is Ceòl: A well-known Scottish Gaelic proverb that translates to "The world will end, but love and music will endure”
Vocals now real people performing 
Collabs welcome. I’ll provide the lyrics if you would like to provide the music and vocals ? 
Scottish born and bred. Just exploring some ideas spinning round in my head and putting them up here. Various styles of music and trying to find my niche ! Songs are ai assisted. All the songs are written solely by me. All New music uploaded is  real people without any ai assistance on the vocals . Older Music and singers are partly ai assisted

Highlands and Islands

Highlander on the run

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