3 Maybe New Mexico.mp3

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/album/4QsOtcPOWjEbS0WYZofzDa?si=V1MDjXUCTOOrZW3pb78VrA

To små skyer

Whispers in Snowlight

BUNDA

Gratitude

Counting On (Raw vocals)

Kennst du den Tiger, wie er tanzt in Berlin 
Den tanzenden Tiger, er will nicht traurig sein 

Tiger und La Belle

It told me if I put a description here I'd get more plays and shit so here's your description.

Sheen

This song blends the intricate fingerstyle of classical guitar, inspired by Bach’s BWV 996, with the ethereal and melancholic warmth of Sufjan Stevens’ “Mystery of Love.” The melody flows gently, weaving an introspective and poetic narrative of love and longing, set against a serene, golden-hued landscape. Soft, emotional vocals complement the delicate instrumentation, creating an intimate, cinematic atmosphere. The song evokes a sense of nostalgia and quiet reflection, capturing fleeting moments of beauty and the bittersweet nature of time and memory.

Echoes of Time

Winter rushes through the rusted screen,
Pine smoke clings where your coat had been

You left with a note in a coffee can
Said, “Don’t chase ghosts—be a better man”
I laughed ‘til the whisky turned to spit
Folded your words, bit by bit

Oh, I'm just a December fool
Counting time by the logs I burn
Talkin’ to God like a lonesome mule
Never sure what I’m s’posed to learn
And you, you had July in your bones
Now I’m frostbit and throwin' stones

The pond's gone solid, like your goodbye
Crows fight over nothin’ under a gunmetal sky
Your blue scarf’s still hangin’ on that fence
Like it’s waitin' for me to make some sense

Oh,  I'm just a December fool
Sharpenin' grief on a pocketknife
Built a chapel outta rusted tools
Prayin’ for the worst days of my life
And you, you had heat in your hands
And I just sink like boots in the land

You said, “Don’t rot in the place we met”
But I carved our names in the creek bed yet
And the flood came down like a sermon’s slap
Took our mark, but never brought you back

Oh,  I'm just a December fool
Made my bed where the cold wind stings
Runnin’ on hope like an old barstool
With a prayer that don’t mean a thing
And you, you are thunder in spring
I’m just talkin’ to bones and things

If love was a season, I missed the bloom
Still talkin' to ghosts in an empty room
I'm just a December fool
A fumblin' hand with a dulled-out tool

Winter rushes through the rusted screen,
Pine smoke clings where your coat had been

December Fool

The simple believeth every word: but the prudent man looketh well to his going.
(Proverbs 14:15)


Echoes of Time

OrbisMelodiarum

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