O Vestido Dela, Meu Velório (lyrics):

Me joguei na estrada, engoli a noite
Acelerei sem olhar pro céu
O vento gritou meu nome, riu de mim
Disse que eu era apenas um réquiem de papel

Me vendi ao agora, ao brilho efêmero
Bebi do fogo até queimar minha razão
Eu só queria voar sem asas
Mas a gravidade me fez refém da escuridão.

Rindo alto, dançando sobre vidro
O mundo girando, eu só mais um ruído
A liberdade que eu buscava era só uma prisão
Com grilhões de ouro, um brinde e um refrão

O vestido dela brilha como um céu sem fim
Mas seus olhos me chamam para dentro de mim
Ela sussurra promessas que ninguém pode ouvir
Minha liberdade... foi só um jeito bonito de fugir

Correndo entre luzes, sombras me abraçam
Eu rio, tropeço, mas ninguém me segura
Entre goles de estrela e pó de ilusão
Meu nome some, minha sombra murmura

A cidade canta promessas vazias
Eu sou só um eco sem direção
No teto do mundo, nada me prende
Mas por que o chão chama meu nome então?

Me leve embora, Morte,
Eu já cansei do mesmo jogo.
Se a festa nunca acaba,
Por que só eu sinto o fogo?

O vestido dela brilha como um céu sem fim,
Mas seus olhos me chamam para dentro de mim.
Ela sussurra promessas que ninguém pode ouvir,
Minha liberdade... foi só um jeito bonito de fugir.

O vestido dela… meu velório.
O riso virou prece.
A estrada virou pó.
E eu virei nada.


O Vestido Dela, Meu Velório

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[Verse 1]  
Snow-sludge stacked beneath the sill, knit cap itches like a curse  
Threadbare socks, a busted heater, every shiver feels rehearsed  
Got all night to count the cracks, but I can’t afford a brew  
Time is rich and spilling over—wish I could spend it next to you  
[Chorus]  
Sunshine’s free, but it’s out of reach  
Wallet’s thin as winter’s speech  
Hours to burn, coins to none—  
Still we chase that golden run
[Verse 2]  
Hands gone numb on the midnight rail, nowhere left to park my bones  
City sleeps in neon frost while I play chords on borrowed tones  
Steam-dream soak in a barroom tub, yeah the fantasy rings true  
If hot water cost me nothing, I’d be boiling thoughts of you  
[Chorus]  
Sunshine’s free, but it’s out of reach  
Wallet’s thin as winter’s speech  
Hours to burn, coins to none—  
Still we chase that golden run  
[Verse 3]  
January crushes like a Sabbath riff, coughin’ ashes in my bed  
Summer sits ten miles away, in the rear-view of my head  
Yet this song’s a roaring furnace, kicking frostbite to the curb  
We’re broke in cash but loaded loud—let the daylight serve the herd  
[Chorus]  
Sunshine’s free, but it’s out of reach  
Wallet’s thin as winter’s speech  
Hours to burn, coins to none—  
Still we chase that golden run

Sunlight on a Shoestring

Vintage guitars + thunder drums = the rock anthem your playlist’s missing ⏰🔥
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https://theartificialhomewreckers.bandcamp.com/
https://theartificialhomewreckers.com/
https://youtu.be/L82zmou-HPw

#rockandroll #oldisgoldsongs #classicrock  #rocknroll  #70srock  

[Verse 1]
Crack the spine on a paperback fuse,
Ink starts buzzing like midnight news;
Each bright sentence—nitro in disguise,
Blows the ceiling off these cautious eyes.
[Chorus]
Kick that door, flood the darkness with light,
Let the sparks chase the back of the night;
Pack your bags—yeah, the clock’s in a fight,
It’s time, it’s time—ignite the night.
[Verse 2]
If I stayed alone with those whispering shelves,
I’d rust like autumn bars around myself;
Forty dawns I served in that paper pen,
Now one bold note shouts “Time!” again.
[Chorus]
Kick that door, flood the darkness with light,
Let the sparks chase the back of the night;
Pack your bags—yeah, the clock’s in a fight,
It’s time, it’s time—ignite the night.
[Chorus]
Kick that door, flood the darkness with light,
Let the sparks chase the back of the night;
Pack your bags—yeah, the clock’s in a fight,
It’s time, it’s time—ignite the night.

Clock’s in a Fight

smik smak tak (new chords) new edit mix

“Nuit Verte” doesn’t happen awake. It’s memory cut into fragments of sound: clocks that don’t keep time, a voice vanishing into its own echo, guitars flaring and dissolving like mirages. A love that lives only between sleep and waking—and punishes both.


Nuit Verte

“Four Roads” walks in circles until it feels like fate: riffs spiraling, vocals confessing without telling. Four paths, one mistake—and the mark of never turning back.


Four Roads

Island Within

ГО-РЭМ.

МпМ

Труба - drain 435

С.Ж.З.К.

Желта-феоз

Гудрон

Fluffy Maybes 松软许诺 is a kind of soft promise that may not be kept, a transcontinental musical experiment birthed in the pandemic. Finally meeting in person and under unexpected quarantine conditions, Jingyun and Robin recorded six hours of improvised sessions which eventually formed the single ‘Unnatural Disaster’ and the forthcoming EP.

Moving through sounds of early electronica, sun-drenched psychedelia, and floating ambient, the duo creates moments of spontaneous and fleeting joy and curiosity, something that shines brightly within a continually collapsing world. Whatever happens in the future, at least for now the band can shower you with some fluffy maybes.

- Please subscribe:
https://www.youtube.com/@theartificialhomewreckers

Rock n roll has been a fun ride but for now county is calling the soul once again. You can easily navigate genres in the Playlist section.

Strumming their way through heartbreak, hilarity, and highway hijinks, The Artificial Home Wreckers are a country rock band like no other. Born from a chance encounter at a roadside diner with a broken jukebox, these renegades of rhythm specialize in songs that sound like a wild Friday night and feel like a hungover Saturday morning.

Their music is a cocktail of twangy guitars, foot-stomping beats, and lyrics that toe the line between tragic and downright ridiculous. From ballads about exes who "borrowed" their truck (and forgot to return it) to anthems about that one unforgettable karaoke night gone horribly wrong, they’ve got a tune for every lovable misfit out there.

Catch them on tour (if their GPS actually works this time), and remember their motto: “Breaking homes one chorus at a time!”

Um artista introspectivo e visceral, que transforma solidão, arrependimento e desejo de pertencimento em música. Suas letras são confessionais e trágicas, sua voz oscila entre sussurros melancólicos e explosões emocionais.

Man/Guy 
Age > 36 >
Composer / Producer / Mixer / Paintér / Designer / DJ

TikTok " FlowBite_music
Instagram " FlowBite_music & CizzOutz
SnapChat " TouchWarrior <> Switzo
www.numberonemusic.com/flowbite
www.Youtube.com/Teqhno 
" - Please Subcribe

Formed in 2013. Dissolved in silence. Reopened only in fragments.

Morrigan’s Howl was a French-Breton band led by Julien Moreau — singer, writer, shadow. Known for their haunting lyrics, analog aesthetics, and theatrical performances, the group released only four official albums before withdrawing from the public eye.

Their sound was a blend of psychedelic folk rock, 70’s ballads, and distorted intimacy. Every song felt like a lost letter. Every show, a ritual.

Rumors say they never truly split. Just vanished.

These releases are part of the surviving archive.
Curated by those who still remember.

New tracks tagged #Psychedelic-rock