The Pressure of the Moment

The Pressure of the Moment (Immersive Version)

我至少可以收紧

我至少可以收紧 (柔和版)

Getting Lost

símbolo de amor

Realizar o seu sonho

It's Sad but It's True

im too sensitive for you
never made it through the walls youve put up
im too sensitive for you
just tell me the truth, though it may hurt me

let me make an educated guess
i know youre worth the stress
i wanna hear your call
let me know what you think would be best
dont think i pass the test
but that wont stop the fall

im too sensitive for you
never made it through the walls youve put up
im too sensitive for you
just tell me the truth, though it may hurt me

meet me in the lobby treat me like a hobby
stay or you can drop me
either way im at your mercy
reciprocate or hurt me
what you choose deserving
left alone im worthy 
bite your hand as if it serves me

im too sensitive for you
never made it through the walls youve put up
im too sensitive for you
just tell me the truth, though it may hurt me

toosensitive (prod. everestdidthis)

Early morning, kitchen light
Silence wrapped in December night
A whispered start to the holiday
In her own, loving way

Flour dusts the air like winter's first snow
A recipe from years ago
Cinnamon, nutmeg, a vanilla bean
Stirring a pot of a hopeful dream
Each cut-out star, each gingerbread heart
Is a silent wish for a brand new start
She smiles at the mess, the joyful expense
Of building a season of innocence

Oh, Mother's hands are making more than treats
She's baking harmony from memories and wheat
With every tray that's placed inside the warmth to rise
She's praying for the light in every family's eyes
Her secret ingredient, the one that makes it right
Is turning this old house to love, and (shining up the night)

It's the recipe, the recipe of home
Turning bread and sugar into a world we own
It's the recipe

She hangs the lights with a careful grace
A touch of love for every space
Untangles strings for the weathered tree
A lighthouse for our family
Wraps each gift with a patient bow
Hoping that the feeling shows
Not just the thing, but the time, the care
The simple peace we're meant to share

Oh, Mother's hands are making more than treats
She's baking harmony from memories and wheat
With every tray that's placed inside the warmth to rise
She's praying for the light in every family's eyes
Her secret ingredient, the one that makes it right
Is turning this old house to love, and (shining up the night)

The oven's glow upon her face
A quiet, dedicated grace
"Let them come home. Let them feel... that all is forgiven
That this is where they belong."
This is her cathedral, this humble, floury place
Her silent sermon is on mercy and on grace

Oh, Mother's hands have made much more than treats
She baked our harmony from memories and wheat!
With every tray that came out warm and golden-brown
She lit the light in every heart that's come around
Her secret ingredient, we finally know tonight
Is turning all our souls to love, and (making everything right)

The final cookie's iced, the last star's on the tree
Her work is done for all to see
A silent prayer in frosting and in pine
(All is calm)
A perfect, fleeting, holy time
(All is bright)
Love is the recipe
(It always was)
Love is the recipe

Christmas - Love Is The Recipe

INVISIBLE CROWN

The little girl is playing 
With a cat on the street. 
I wonder quietly,
Is this the first time they meet? 

 She wears rags and is gentle
With the cat on the street 
 How is she going to chase her dreams
With no shoes on her feet? 

  In the café on the corner,
 The chef prepared a meal. 
 It is a Michelin delight, how can this be real? 
 The little girl is hungry
 This is far from right 

How do we deal with these wars and battles? The contrast between rich and poor deeply rattles.
I’m traumatised, living disguised, powerless, frozen, agonized. 
I can’t watch it anymore, not now, not ever before. 
Not ever before.
Not ever before.

 The lady with one leg,
and scars on her face, 
regularly beaten, has no home, no place
not eaten for days,
yet she carries herself with visible grace. 

On every corner there is destitute, 
while tourists flock to luxuries.
Garbage bin pickers scrape for food, in the same streets 
where jet-setters spend their dollars on retreats. 

Do they know the lady who irons their sheets 
Her children are unfed, her son is dead. 
Yesterday her shack burnt down.
 She shows up for work, 
wearing a smile and an invisible crown. 
Did they even notice she was there?
In need of her job, hiding despair?

How do we deal with these wars and battles? The contrast between rich and poor deeply rattles. I’m traumatised, living disguised, powerless, frozen, agonized.
I can’t watch it anymore, not now, not ever before.
Not ever before.
Not ever before.

 Where is your conscience? I ask the rich 
 They are surviving the streets with incredible resilience 
The courage that walks these streets unseen,
 Is far more impressive than the dollars on your screen

In Sunday Churches with pray and praise 
Communities sing together in grace
Holding onto faith and true believe
What's more Noble than strength amongst grief? 

How do we deal with these wars and battles? The contrast between rich and poor deeply rattles. I’m traumatised, living disguised, powerless, frozen, agonized. I can’t watch it anymore, not now, not ever before.
Not ever before.
Not ever before.


Lyrics copyright Spiritbird, music and vocals featuring AI. 

Getting Lost

Sylvia Hansel