Chrome doesn’t lie when the sun hits just right.
Grease stains carry stories no preacher could preach.
Leather grips tighter when the road turns mean.
Throttle speaks louder than most men ever do.
Chain hums like a hymn when the gears catch clean.
Motor don’t judge—it just moves.
Steel forgives what flesh remembers.
Faith ain’t found in pews—it’s welded into the frame.
Belief don’t need a book when the engine’s warm.
Salvation don’t wear robes—it wears road dust.
Motor and chain, heart and vein.
Ride through fire, ride through rain.
Trust in steel, trust in speed.
Faith ain’t words—it’s what you bleed.
Motor and chain, soul and flame.
Every mile calls your name.
Smoke rises from the past like a warning.
Mirrors show ghosts that never blink.
Gasoline smells like freedom when the tank’s full.
Tires grip truth tighter than memory.
Wind carries prayers no one hears but the road.
Helmet hides the tears that never fell.
Kickstand holds more weight than most promises.
Chain don’t break unless you forget to believe.
Every bolt holds a reason.
each dent tells a truth.
Every ride rewrites the story.
each mile is proof.
Sunset paints the scars gold.
Highway hums like a choir of sinners.
Motor sings louder than regret.
Chain pulls forward when nothing else will.
Faith don’t ask for permission—it just rides.
Brotherhood lives in the echo of the pipes.
Hope rides pillion with grit.
Motor and chain never let go.
Motor and chain, heart and vein.
Ride through fire, ride through rain.
Trust in steel, trust in speed.
Faith ain’t words—it’s what you bleed.
Motor and chain, soul and flame.
Every mile calls your name.
Some pray with hands.
Some pray with throttle.
I just ride.
That’s my gospel.
[bass guitar riff}
I just ride.  I just ride.  I just ride.
 just ride...... ride....... ride.
All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Motor and Chain  Rusty Marshall Band

I wasn’t looking for anything but a refill.
I didn’t expect the kind of silence that changes a room.
Then everything shifted.
She entered like the answer to a question I’d buried years ago.
Her eyes didn’t blink—they just stared straight through the noise.
I dropped my change and forgot what I was buying.
The jukebox skipped like it knew something was happening.
No smile, no nod—just presence, and the whole place felt warmer.
I stood still like a man who’d just remembered his own name.
I’ve seen beauty dressed in diamonds and disaster,
but this was grace with a heartbeat and no warning.
The world got quiet and my past got loud.
Sleep felt foreign and pretending lost its grip.
Time forgot its job and every line I’d written unraveled.
Shock came gentle, like thunder wrapped in velvet.
Love didn’t knock—it rewired the room.
She ordered coffee like it was a sacred ritual.
Her voice had the rhythm of someone who’s lived through storms.
I tried to speak but my words came out sideways.
She laughed once and it echoed like a hymn.
Cream stirred like paint on canvas, and I memorized the motion.
That spoon held more grace than most sermons I’ve heard.
Names didn’t matter because the moment already knew us.
Stories didn’t need telling because the silence filled them in.
Staying wasn’t a question—it was already happening.
Signs weren’t needed when the air itself was singing.
The jukebox played a brand-new song and I knew where I belonged.
Breath came easier and the room felt like home.
Every chord I’d ever strummed made sense in that instant.
She didn’t change me—she revealed what was already waiting.
She walked in.
And I’m still catching my breath.
still catching my breath.
still catching my breath.

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

She Walked In Rusty Marshall Band

This isn’t a cry for help.
It’s just a list of things that didn’t go right.
Some were my fault.
Some were just the weather.
I missed the train by seconds and the job by inches.
I said the truth too early and the lie too late.
I wore the wrong shirt to the right funeral.
I held the door for someone who never looked back.
I bought the ticket for the concert that got canceled.
I learned the lesson after the test was graded.
I loved the one who needed someone else.
I stayed when leaving would’ve saved me.
I walked into rooms where no one knew my name.
I answered questions no one asked.
I gave advice to people who preferred the fall.
I planted seeds in soil that wouldn’t hold.
I tried to fix the leak with words and tape.
I chased the dog that didn’t want to be found.
I wrote the song that no one wanted to sing.
I prayed for peace while holding onto pride.
Hapless isn’t tragic—it’s just tangled.
It’s the feeling of being one step behind the moment.
It’s the sound of your name being mispronounced in every room.
It’s the echo of good intentions that never landed.
Hapless is the story that starts with “almost.”
It’s the dance you learned after the music changed.
It’s the apology you rehearsed for someone who left.
It’s the map that leads to places already closed.
Hapless is the laugh that comes too late to help.
It’s the kindness that gets mistaken for weakness.
It’s the truth that arrives after the damage is done.
It’s the part of you that keeps showing up anyway.
I gave the toast that no one clapped for.
I wore the shoes that squeaked in silence.
I tried to help and made it worse.
I stood in line for something that wasn’t mine.
I told the joke that didn’t land.
I held the note that didn’t fit the chord.
I stayed polite when I should’ve roared.
I kept the peace and lost the war.
I’m not asking for a rewrite.
I’m not hoping for applause.
I just want someone to know
that I showed up despite the odds.
I’m not proud of every moment.
I’m not ashamed of every fall.
I’m just the man who kept on walking
when the world forgot to call.
Hapless isn’t broken—it’s just bruised.
It’s the rhythm of a life that never quite aligned.
It’s the melody that plays beneath the noise.
It’s the grace of trying one more time.
Hapless is the story I’ve been singing.
It’s the truth I never meant to hide.
It’s the reason I’m still strumming
with no spotlight, just the sky.
This isn’t a cry for help.
It’s just a song for anyone
who’s ever been a little too late
and still showed up.

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Hapless Rusty Marshall Band

The road don’t care what you’ve done.
It just asks if you’re still ....chasing thunder......
He lit his first smoke off a burning bridge.
Took his first punch with a grin and a twitch.
He’s got scars where names used to be.
And a throttle hand that don’t believe in peace.
He drinks like the past is still chasing him.
And rides like the future ain’t worth a sin.
He’s buried brothers in dust and flame.
and when he rides he calls their names.
He’s got blood on his boots and glass in his grin.
Every barroom brawl was a prayer to begin.
He don’t ask for mercy, don’t speak of regret.
He just pours another round and lights a cigarette.
The road is his gospel, the bike is his creed.
He’s chasing thunder — not hope, not need.
He rides with ghosts who never forgive.
And he swears that’s the only way to live.
No apologies, no second tries.
Just engines screaming under blackened skies.
If you ride with him, you ride and never tell
And you better be ready ...to ride through hell...
He’s chasing thunder — not dreams, not light.
Just the roar that drowns out the night.
He’s chasing thunder — through blood and bone.
Where the broken ride alone.
He’s chasing thunder — no brakes, no prayer.
Just a brotherhood built on dare.
He’s chasing thunder — and if you fall behind…
If your a brother ...gonna toss you a line
He found a brother broken down , lost in the dark.
No patch, no pride — just gun shot marks.
And for the first time, he didn’t speak.
Just held the man and made him believe.
They’d fought, they’d bled, took off chasing thunder
to save a brother that got pulled  under.
He didn’t cry, didn’t rage, didn’t run.
He just whispered, “your not done.”......chasing ....thunder.......!
Brotherhood ain’t built on grace.
It’s forged in fire and a thousand mistakes.
It’s the silence when the world goes black.
And the promise that you’ve got his back.
It’s not forgiveness — it’s the ride.
And the thunder you chase side by side.
He’s chasing thunder — not dreams, not light.
Just the roar that drowns out the night.
He’s chasing thunder — through blood and bone.
Where the broken ride alone.
He’s chasing thunder — no brakes, no prayer.
Just a brotherhood built on  each dare.
He’s chasing thunder — and if you fall behind…
If your a bother... gonna  toss you a line...
The road don’t care what you’ve done.
It just asks if you’re still ....chasing thunder.
chasing thunder......
chasing thunder.......chasing .....thunder.....

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Chasing Thunder Rusty Marshall Band

He tuned his soul to the sound of chrome.
Raised on riffs and the rumble of home.
Leather and scars were the only truth.
He found his church in a barroom booth.
The road was long but the rhythm stayed.
Every mile was a debt he paid.
They don’t ask why — they just roll.
Gasoline hearts and rock and roll.
If you’ve got a brother at your side…
You don’t need a map for the ride.
Rock and ride — through the fire and the rain.
Through the breakdown, the bruises, the pain.
Rock and ride — with your boots on the line.
Every chord, every curve, every sign.
Rock and ride — when the world says no.
You throttle up and let it go.
Rock and ride — till the last goodbye.
And you’ll know who’s real when the engines die.
He’s seen the edge and he’s kissed the fall.
Watched good men fade behind the wall.
But when the music hits and the tires scream…
He remembers every outlaw dream.
They don’t cry — they burn and bend.
But they’ll bleed for a brother to the bitter end.
They don’t ask why — they just roll.
Gasoline hearts and rock and roll.
If you’ve got a brother at your side…
You don’t need a map for the ride.
Rock and ride — through the fire and the rain.
Through the breakdown, the bruises, the pain.
Rock and ride — with your boots on the line.
Every chord, every curve, every sign.
Rock and ride — when the world says no.
You throttle up and let it go.
Rock and ride — till the last goodbye.
And you’ll know who’s real when the engines die.
He’s older now but the fire’s still lit.
The road still calls and he won’t quit.
He sees his brother fighting for breath.
And it hits harder than love or death.
So he rides slower, but he rides true.
Because that’s what real brothers do.
Being a brother ain’t just blood and name.
It’s showing up when life’s a flame.
It’s the silence shared when words won’t land.
It’s the grip of a calloused hand.
It’s knowing you’d trade your pride and ride…
Just to keep your brother alive.
Rock and ride — through the fire and the rain.
Through the breakdown, the bruises, the pain.
Rock and ride — with your boots on the line.
Every chord, every curve, every sign.
Rock and ride — when the world says no.
You throttle up and let it go.
Rock and ride — till the last goodbye.
And you’ll know who’s real ....when the engines die.
Rock and ride....Rock and ride...Rock and ride

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing


Ride and Rock Rusty Marshall Band

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/artist/0oUfRWpvIFYlxCI11qjdBB?si=187cc19f44174981

Apple music: https://music.apple.com/us/artist/aleksiz/1646935937

Donations: https://paypal.me/aleksizmusic

My FLP Pack for Hardstyle: 

My mixing and mastering services + all my other links:
https://linktr.ee/aleksi_leskinen

https://instagram.com/aleksileskinen_

Live Forever

“Silver Lines and Satellite Dreams” is a fast-paced jazz-rock fusion anthem that captures the humor, hustle, and heart of chasing meaning in a world wired for noise. With soaring guitars, rolling bass, cinematic strings, and a touch of Joe Walsh swagger, the track fuses jazz improvisation with arena-rock energy. It’s witty, soulful, and unstoppable — a midnight drive through neon reflections, where every wrong turn still hits the groove.

🔥 Genre: Jazz-Rock Fusion
🎸 Vibe: Energetic • Cinematic • Soulful • Witty
🎧 Produced by: Madman Music
📍 Origin: NYC, NY

Silver Lines and Satellite Dreams

Funny ...(.Funny )...Funny .....Funny thing about that
I bought a smart fridge; it judges with tears
When I grab cheese, it shows my work out fears
My therapist said to build a fence —
Around my feelings, so I charge them rent.
Tried yoga, trapped in downward dog,
Now barking at problems like a lost cause
I’m not broken, just creatively cracked.
I’m the kind of mess you can’t subtract.
If life’s a circus, I’m the snack stand.
Selling popcorn with one shaky hand.
Funny thing about that —
I Google symptoms, funeral plans start sprouting.
Funny thing about that —
99 problems, ..98.. borne of my doubting.
[hook riff]
Fun thing about that —
Life’s a joke, I laugh late, but who's counting
Funny ....Funny ...Funny .....Funny thing about that
I dated an astrologer, you see,
She ditched me when Mercury spun crazily.
Told my mom, "I’m emotionally quite mature,"
She laughed, and grounded me, as her cure
Ex claimed I was "mysterious," a sign —
I forgot her birthday three years, just like mine.
I’m not toxic, just a little fermented.
My charm’s expired but still well-vented.
If love’s a game, I lost the dice.
and run from fate like folks run from Ice
Funny  thing about that —
I collect red flags like carnival bribes.
Funny thing about that —
My love language? Silence with maybe soon bribes.
Fun thing about that —
Ghosted myself, no joy for a man who just hides
Funny ....Funny ...Funny .....Funny thing about that
Turned 40, my body threw a bash,
Inviting pain, regret,  more then a dash
being left out tucks me in tight,
Sleeping like I’m not even here, night after night.
Asked the doc am I'm well am I  right,
“Define well” , then he walk away..out of  my sight
Tried journaling, but my pen retired,
Asked the universe, but she said she was a lier
Downloaded mindfulness,  but its advice betrayed,
Told me “breathe,”  maybe get laid
Funny thing about that —
I Google symptoms, funeral plans start sprouting.
Funny thing about that —
99 problems, ..98.. borne of my doubting.
Funny thing about that —
Life’s a joke, I laugh late, but who's counting
Funny ....Funny ...Funny .....Funny thing about that
Here’s to the mess, the weird, and all that’s fun.
Bad decisions make the best stories — second to none.
Funnny thing about that…
may not chage a thing
Except  the frig judgmental tone  and this song I sing

Funny ....Funny ...Funny .....Funny thing about that...


All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Funny Thing Rusty Marshall Band

A darker, slow-burning reimagining of CCR’s Bad Moon Rising — stripped back and haunting, yet cinematic in scope. Bleeding Dry brings a brooding, modern classic rock feel that nods to Pink Floyd’s atmosphere while keeping the soul of the original intact.

Recorded with real instruments and vintage-inspired tones:
🎸 Electric – ’62 Reissue Fender Stratocaster → Boss Katana MkII
🎸 Acoustic – Martin D-28
🎸 Bass – Fender Jazz Bass
🎹 Keys/Synth – Arturia Pigments
🥁 Drums – EZ Drummer 3 (Vintage Kit)
🎙 Vocals – Rode NT1 + CAD E100

Mixed and mastered for warmth and depth, with analog-style reverb and tape coloration.

Sit back, close your eyes, and watch the storm roll in. 🌑

#BleedingDryMusic

Bad Moon Rising

Slam on the door.
I opened it.
A biker stood there, soaked in blood —
Holding another, barely breathing.
No words.
Just motion.
Colors torn, blood running thick,
He laid his brother down, hands shaking quick.
We hit the road, no sirens, no sound,
my car tires screaming  ..the pedel full down.
Hospital lights, steel and white,
They took him in, swallowed in red lights.
I stayed with the one who didn’t fall,
He made a few calls — didn’t say much at all.
I didn’t ask what club, what creed.
I just drove that night  that’s all they need
Blood on colors, silence now
as we  just sat ....heads bowed
An hour passed, then thunder grew,
Engines rolled in like a war-time crew.
Leather and chrome, boots on tile,
No rage, no noise — just brother style.
I slipped out quiet, heart still raw,
Didn’t know if I was seen, but holy fuck what I saw.
They had him now, and I had peace going home
But peace don’t last  the road keeps going
Next morning, the street began to shake,
Like the earth itself was set to break.
I opened the door, still half asleep,
And saw a wave of chrome, loud and deep.
Hundreds of bikes, lined outside my gate
No anger, no fear — just a gift of fate
They handed me  that  vest, all shook my hand
And I knew I’d never ride alone, I was a biker now... man
I didn’t patch in....
I didn’t bleed for a name.
But I bled for a man.
And they saw that....  and...
well.... that’s all it ever takes.
Blood on colors —
That’s how they knew.
Not by patch, not by vow,
But by what I’d do.
I was just a man with a car that night —
Now I’m a brother with a story that's told round firelight
They came for him.
But they stayed for me.
And when the road calls again —
I’ll answer. be what I need to be
Because blood on colors…
Don’t wash off.... not off me .....
blood on colors...blood on colors.
.blood on colors...blood on colors...

All rights reserved by songwriter and producer Edwin H. Balder.
For more ride-and-rock tracks, click here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/rusty-marshall-band?si=c5040230a7334213b5d7609527997d7c&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing



Blood on Colors Rusty Marshall Band

🎙️ Madman Music Radio Station Page - Over 150 HQ Hits
🎧 Producer • Songwriter • Mixing & Mastering Engineer • Sound Designer

This page — and our record label — is evolving into a full radio experience:
your one-stop destination for great music of every genre.
From high-energy hip-hop and soulful R&B to cinematic pop and fusion,
we craft every track with passion, precision, and purpose.

💿 Produced, mixed, and mastered by Michael Woltmann —
a creative visionary behind Madman Music, where sound becomes emotion.

🔥 Tune in. Discover. Feel the music.

In the shadows of Apache Junction, at the foot of the majestic Superstition Mountains, sits a weathered hacienda. This desert oasis is home to an enigmatic figure, a songwriter whose journey reads like a long, dusty road of honky-tonk bars and college cafeterias. He wasn't chasing fame or glitter; instead, he chose the soul-crushing beauty of music for music's sake.

Years spent hunched over sticky barroom tables and scribbling lyrics on napkins earned him a reputation—not in the spotlight but in the back rooms where deals are made. He wrote melodies that found their way into the hearts of stars who had lost their own muse. He sold his creations for cash, with no recognition, but the whisper of his songs carried the weight of his soul.

Finally, he bought this piece of desert paradise—a stable income from his timeless songs allowed him to live comfortably, if anonymously. Here in this hacienda, with his family beside him and the mountains as his backdrop, he found the peace to write hits under his own name. He chuckled at the irony that now, without chasing fame, he could create music that brought him joy.

In the end, it was never about the spotlight. It was about the journey, the stories, and the songs that wrote themselves through his life. As the sun set behind the Superstitions, casting long shadows over the hacienda, he strummed his guitar and sang—content, unknown, and unburdened by the world's gaze.


Copyright 2019 Edwin H. Balder

I may be dead when fame comes but my real glory was always JULIE & The Kids. Thank you for such love

Composer, musician, producer. Influenced by Pink Floyd and many others.

New tracks tagged #Classicrock