[Chorus]
(You have no heart-)
Woah-- I just cant forget that your really-
the nights feel longer, the light feels withdrawn.
If you don't wanna cry tonight
You-  you better feel alright (alright)
Put your hands up to the sky

[Verse]
If you don't wanna smile tonight
You- you better feel miserable (you better)
As if  the pain were a ritual
that memory whispered beneath its breath
Of love, long, lost silent death.
Whisper prayers beneath my breath.
And nothing comes close like you
My heart still beats in the shades of blue. (Oh my gosh)
If you don't wanna cry tonight-
Then maybe you should shut the fuck up?

(You are so goddamn sorrow)

Dont cry tonight (early)

Almost, Keep On

After The Dial Tones

I Left My Grave Open For You

It's Okay To Forget Me, I'm Used To It By Now

55°36'28.5"N 1°43'09.0"W

Snow rests on my eyelashes…
one small weight
as I lift the violin to my shoulder.
The sky looks close tonight,
like it wants to listen
to whatever is left in me to give.

I breathe in the cold,
sharp where the warm used to be.
The field waits…
wide, white, patient.
No footsteps behind me.
No voice calling me back.

I pull the first note.
It wavers in the air,
soft as a secret I never meant to keep.
Snow moves around me in slow circles,
like it remembers the steps
I’ve forgotten how to take.

I turn with it,
barely a dance,
barely a man,
just breath and trembling wood.
Each note leans into the next,
as if the music is carrying me
farther than my legs can go.

The flakes find my hair,
my sleeves,
the hollow beneath my throat.
They melt,
then they don’t.
Somewhere in that shift,
my hands start to shake.

The violin warms under my chin
only where I touch it.
Everywhere else
feels like the world preparing
to let me go.

I take another step,
slow enough to hear the snow answer back.
The bow slips once
a small fracture
and I almost stop,
but the silence feels heavier
than the sound ever did.

So I play.
I always play.
The note thins out
as if they know the cold better than I do.
As if they’ve already learned
how to disappear.

The field opens around me,
empty,
endless,
quiet in all the places I am not.
I move through it
like someone wandering back
into a memory he never finished living.

A breath catches
not in fear,
not in pain
just in that quiet way
the body admits
it’s tired.

The bow drags again,
and the tone breaks
right in the middle.
A hairline crack
running through the sound
through the string
through whatever is still holding me upright.

Snow gathers at my nape,
soft enough
to feel almost kind.
I close my eyes
and the world turns to white behind them.

One more turn,
one more step,
one more trembling pull
of the bow…

The last string snaps.
A thin, bright sound
cutting through the dark.
The violin jolts in my hands.
My knees give way
before the echo fades.

The snow meets me gently,
rising to my shoulders,
my chest,
my breath.
It settles like a blanket
no one ever tucked around me
when I needed it most.

The violin lies beside me,
quiet now,
its music spent.

The sky keeps falling white.

And as the last of me grows quiet
I feel the sound I didn’t finish
settle inside my chest
cold
still
mine

Winter's Violin

one progression

Dirty Glocks prod.modemazi

Emotional arson.

"Heart that Burns" sets a fragile classical arrangement ablaze with the sheer heat of a distorted hardstyle core. It is a high-octane collision of sorrow and aggression, where the strings weep but the bassline screams.

heart that burns (classical to hardstyle)

Maybe one day we can return to Bandit Country.

Until Then...

- Grace

i make music for cool losers 👨‍🦯‍➡️ig sorrowhill_

i am a poor one man band from washington state, i’ve been making music only for about a year and everyday i feel myself getting better. i hope you guys enjoy

Welcome to my space. ✨
I make all kind of music: Hip hop, cosmic hardstyle, calm and luxurious lofi instrumentals for focus, relaxation, or just vibing out. Hope you find something you love.

I love playing with words, finding new ways to put them together to express what I feel. I hope my poems encourage others to share their feelings openly and honestly. My aim is to paint pictures with words, making them sing in a way that touches everyone's heart and mind. Through my poetry, I want to create moments that everyone can see themselves in, exploring emotions and thoughts that connect us all.

your least favorite artist but your favorite junkie
@ prod.sorrow on ig to contact
#em0tr4p #4 #BYOBF

New tracks tagged #SORROW