The drone mind of every songwriter
Over the World   by Edwin H Balder
Over rooftops, over dreams,
Skimming the sky like silent wings.
Catchin’ light off canyon stone,
I see it all, but I'm not known.
Up, up and over the noise,
Every frame, every hidden joy.
No wires, no ties, just breeze and view—
I fly where stories come into view.
Morning breaks and the desert glows,
RV parks and tumbleweeds below.
A biker waves, a sunrise kiss—
Life unfolds, I don’t miss this bliss.
Kids in chalk on cul-de-sac gray,
A poet’s note on the church display.
Someone dancing in open air,
Love like that—found anywhere.
Up, up and over the noise,
Every frame, every hidden joy.
No wires, no ties, just breeze and view—
I fly where stories come into view.
Picnic blankets, sparkler sparks,
Hidden murals in rundown parks.
Lost and found from a sky so free,
These little things mean the world to me.
No passport, no lanes, no sign—
Just motion made for hearts and minds.
A hush in flight, a truth I scan,
All this world, and here I am.
All ..this ..world,... and.. here ..I... am....


Thanks to the players from H.C. and Del's studio

All Rights held by songwriter Edwin H. Balder. 
Be sure to visit Tina's playlist here: 
https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/tina-talone-may-this-kind-of?si=c962a19838244cafab03c08ba110c75f&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

And Tina's new music video here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TZvNm4nfdQ
 #soul #funk #banger #funky #dance #dancemusic #blues #bangers #r&B #randb #rap #Hiphop #country #folk #countrywestern

Over the World by Tina Talone

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes 

I all alone beweep my outcast state, 

And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, 

And look upon myself and curse my fate, 

Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, 

Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, 

Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope, 

With what I most enjoy contented least; 

Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, 

Haply I think on thee, and then my state, 

Like to the lark at break of day arising 

From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate; 

For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings 

That then I scorn to change my state with kings. 

When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes 

I all alone beweep my outcast state, 


Thank Bill! for every word I state

Sonnet 29  by Bill Shakespeare & EHB

Forever under water in loss...
The Flood    by Songwriter Edwin H. Balder
the river rose in silence first
a whisper stretched through thirsty dirt
no thunder, no parade of grief—
just homes forgettin' their belief
miss earlene’s porch began to float
where she once read Psalms and hung her coat
her rocking chair, the mat she made
now drift like words she couldn’t say
the mailbox wept beneath the tide
letters sealed but stripped of pride
and every fence that stood for years
now leans like someone caught in tears
the flood don’t knock, it just becomes
it don’t explain the things it’s done
it flows like loss through every room
where pictures fade and flowers bloom
it ain’t the water, it ain’t the mud—
it’s what ain’t comin' back ,my love
the diner roof crumbled like straw
old men cursed and walked the floor
the jukebox played but only air
the waitress whispered a final prayer
a swing set gone, a road erased
a photo swept without a face
and in the church, the hymn was drowned
but somehow grace still hung around
the flood don’t break, it redefines
makes memory a crooked line
it flows like loss through quiet steps
through cedar beams and unpaid debts
it don’t shout loud, it don’t accuse—
just carries off what we still use
darryl built boats from metal scrap
to chase what sank but won’t come back
he said, “some things just float away—”
“others are ghosts that never stay”
kids draw rivers with no banks
and count friends lost in skipping ranks
a mother folds a shirt once worn
beneath a name her voice has sworn
the flood don’t beg, it just insists
it rains where reason won’t exist
it flows like loss through how we cope—
replaces ground with borrowed hope
no need for thunder, crash, or flame—
it carves our hearts, forgets our name
it touched the land like hands unshaken
left no map, just faith forsaken
we plant again, but not the same—
we speak of it without its name
the flood still moves beneath our feet
through stories we forgot to keep
not just the water, not the sound—
it’s every silence that we found

Thanks to all who made this happen...Love ya all...This is an Open source song free to cover by songwriter Edwin H. Balder in hopes you send some of the money you make covering "The Flood"...  to help

The Flood  by Songwriter Edwin H. Balder

I found wonder I hope for my children
May This Kind Of Love Find Me by Tina Talone
i saw them crossing at the light
his hand wrapped soft, her grip held tight
the kind of love that doesn’t speak—
but moves the soul, week by week
she wiped the ice cream from his chin
laughed like time was tucked within
he reached for napkins, missed the mark
she smiled—said, “life with you is such a lark”
they passed the plate, no word was said
just eyes that knew the life they’d led
and all the noise fell out of tune
as two old hands hold under a fignernail moon
may this kind of love find me
the kind that walks, not just runs free
the kind that waits in worn-out shoes
that trades the noise for quiet truths
may it show up, soft and slow—
like someone who just… knows
he helped her step across the lane
dodged the cars, ignored the pain
his back was bent, her knees went weak
but they moved like a steady heartbeat
she called him “darlin’,” kissed his sleeve
like they still danced on new year’s eve
i held my breath, they held their ground
in love that doesn’t spin—just stays around
may this kind of love find me
the kind that’s sewn in memory
that doesn’t need a perfect line
just two old souls and borrowed time
may it whisper, may it grace—
and call my heart to that kind of place
they traded food across the booth
no score, no keeping track of truth
she gave her fries, he passed his pie
and neither one asked “when” or “why”
just the quiet rhythm shared
the way you love when you’ve repaired
the way you listen with your skin
to what the silence holds within
not love that sparks and fades in thrill
but love that climbs the highest hill
with every wrinkle, every scar—
proof that hearts know who we are
i want the kind that stays, not steals—
the kind that's built from what feels real
may this kind of love find me
the kind that sees beyond what’s free
the kind that folds into each day
like prayers we never learned to say
may it bless me, through and through—
and let me give that kind of love... too
i watched them fade beyond the street
but still their rhythm beats in me
may this kind of love find me
may this kind of love find me

Songwriter Edwin H. Balder love to Tina and Del's wonder getting this perfect!

All Rights held by songwriter Edwin H. Balder.
 Be sure to visit Tina's playlist here: https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/tina-talone-may-this-kind-of?si=c962a19838244cafab03c08ba110c75f&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

And Tina's new music video here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6TZvNm4nfdQ

May This Kind Of Love Find Me by Tina Talone

I was fifteen, boots half-tied
Dust on my jeans, heart open wide
Picked wildflowers by the old split rail
Where the farm road curved like a fairytale
Sky was blue, but not too proud
Just enough clouds to make you slow down
The breeze put berries in my hair
And I let it, like I didn’t care
I walked that mile with words half-formed
A paper heart, a love unborn
Betty May lived past the bend
Where the fence gave way and the fields would end
I practiced lines beneath my breath
Like a prayer or a poet’s test
“Would you come with me to the dance?”
Felt like asking fate for a chance
And I took my time, like time was mine
Let the wind rewrite each line
Every petal, every pause
Was a verse without a cause
I didn’t know what love would weigh
But I knew what I had to say
And maybe every song I’ve sung since then
Was walking to Betty May’s again
She opened the door with a crooked smile
Like she’d been waiting all the while
I held the flowers like a shield
She took them like they’d been revealed
We didn’t dance like stars or flames
Just two kids learning each other’s names
But I remember how her hand felt right
And how the music softened night
There’s a thousand ways to say “I care”
But only one that finds you there
In the hush before the words come true
In the walk, not the rendezvous
And every lyric I’ve ever chased
Was born in that slow, sacred place
So I take my time, like time still bends
Back to where the road descends
To a porch light, to a girl, to grace
To the wildflowers I couldn’t waste
I didn’t know what love would weigh
But I knew what I had to say
And maybe every song I’ve sung since then
Was walking to Betty May’s again
Still walking… still writing… still trying to say
What I meant… that day.


Walking to Betty May's

Paul Anka requested takes of this hit and Tina said yes...

Put Your Head On My Shoulder As Requested by Paul

I hit every note like a prayer in the dark
Got a voice that could echo through Central Park
But they scroll past me, eyes glazed and numb
'Cause I don’t flash thighs or chew bubblegum
Dropped a countdown, poured out my soul
Posted the teaser, watched it take no toll
No vinyl orders, no CD spins
Just “you’d chart if you showed more skin”
They say “girl, you need a brand, not a ballad”
“Get a stylist, not a stanza—make it valid”
But I’m not here to pose, I’m here to bleed
And I won’t trade truth for a viral feed
I sing like heaven, but I sell like hell
Got truth in my tone, but no thirst to compel
They want a backbend, not a backstory
I’m a diamond in a world that rewards purgatory
I sing like heaven, but I sell like hell
She’s got the angles, the gloss, the glare
I’ve got the scars, the grit, the prayer
But they stream cleavage, not confession
She’s trending in flesh, I’m stuck in expression
I saw her cover—just hips and haze
No liner notes, no soul, just praise
They called it “iconic,” they called it “hot”
But not once did they mention the song she forgot
I sing like heaven, but I sell like hell
Got truth in my tone, but no thirst to compel
They want a waistline, not a lifeline
I’m a diamond in a world that wants rhinestones to shine
I sing like heaven, but I sell like hell
[intense musical solo]
They quote her tweets, not her lyrics
They stream her looks, not her spirit
She’s got the fame, the filters, the flair
But I’ve got the ache, the art, the air
I read the books, she read the room
I wrote the verses, she posed in perfume
They gave her Grammys, gave me “next time”
But I’d rather be timeless than trend on a dime
Maybe one day they’ll hear the ache
In every breath I didn’t fake
But until then, I’ll write my name
In melodies they can’t reclaim
 I sing like heaven, but I sell like hell
Got stories to tell, and I sing them well
They want a body, I bring a soul
But I’ll keep singing till I’m whole
I sing like heaven… even if I sell like hell
"They buy what they see first—skin before sound.
But I’m not some dessert to dress up and serve.
I’m the meal you crave when you’re starving for truth.
I never lie, I never pose.
Still, I wish my chest was fuller, my hips more round—
So maybe then, you’d finally hear my sound.

🌹Thanks to the players from H.C. and Del's studio

All Rights held by songwriter Edwin H. Balder. 

Be sure to visit Tina's playlist here: 
https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/tina-talone-may-this-kind-of?si=c962a19838244cafab03c08ba110c75f&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Sing Like Heaven, Sell Like Hell🌹Tina Talone🌹

Tortured poet or a showgirl, tell me who you chose to be
Did you trade your ink for glitter, did you sell your melody?
Was the spotlight worth the silence, was the fame worth losing me?
Tortured poet or a showgirl… which mask did you believe?
She wrote in journals, not in gloss
Sang to mirrors, not to applause
Her words were thunder, raw and wild
But they told her, “Smile like a child”
She wore her heartbreak like a crown
But they said, “Girl, tone it down”
So she stitched her pain into a dress
And danced her truth into finesse
They gave her stages, gave her gold
But never let her soul unfold
She learned to sparkle, learned to spin
But lost the girl she was within
Tortured poet or a showgirl, tell me what they made you choose
Did you trade your truth for trophies, did you paint your pain in rouge?
Was the glitter worth the grieving, was the silence worth the sound?
Tortured poet or a showgirl… did they build you just to drown?
She wrote a verse they called too sad
So she danced instead, made the critics glad
She kissed the cameras, played the part
But buried lyrics in her heart
She wore sequins over scars
Sang of love beneath the stars
But every cheer felt like a theft
Of the girl who hadn’t left
They gave her fame, they gave her fear
But never let her voice be clear
She learned to pose, learned to please
But lost the right to grieve with ease
Tortured poet or a showgirl, tell me what they made you choose
Did you trade your truth for trophies, did you paint your pain in rouge?
Was the glitter worth the grieving, was the silence worth the sound?
Tortured poet or a showgirl… did they build you just to drown?
She’s the verse they never read
She’s the tear they dressed in red
She’s the truth behind the show
She’s the ache they’ll never know
Tortured poet or a showgirl
She’s both, and she’s neither
She’s the fire they tried to bottle
She’s the storm they called a teaser
Now she sings with open wounds
In sold-out halls and silver moons
But every note still asks the cost
Of all the selves that she has lost
Tortured poet or a showgirl, tell me what they made you choose
Did you trade your truth for trophies, did you paint your pain in rouge?
Was the glitter worth the grieving, was the silence worth the sound?
Tortured poet or a showgirl… did they build you just to drown?
Tortured poet or a showgirl, tell me who you chose to be
Did you trade your ink for glitter, did you sell your melody?
Was the spotlight worth the silence, was the fame worth losing me?
Tortured poet or a showgirl… now the world will never see.


🌹Thanks to the players from H.C. and Del's studio

All Rights held by songwriter Edwin H. Balder. 

Be sure to visit Tina's playlist here: 
https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/tina-talone-may-this-kind-of?si=c962a19838244cafab03c08ba110c75f&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing

Tortured Poet or a Showgirl 🌹Tina Talone🌹

She came from a world of velvet lights
I came from dust and football fights
She knew the rules, I broke a few
But somehow, we both saw something true
They watched us like a movie reel
Every glance, every word, every feel
But behind the flash and filtered frame
We built a fire they couldn’t name
We didn’t match on paper
But we matched in soul and skin
And every time they doubted
We just let our love win
The day I asked her to marry me
We stood alone, but not afraid
Two hearts that never played charades
They can talk, they can spin
But they weren’t there.. when we ...took each other in
The day I asked her to marry me
She wore wonder like starlight born
I wore hope like something worn
We didn’t need a script or cue
Just a quiet place to say “I do”
They said we’d fade, they said we’d bend
But love don’t break—it just transcends
And in that moment, hand in mine
I saw... forever.....(forever) ...in her eyes
We didn’t match on paper
But we matched in soul and skin
And every time they doubted
We.. just.. let.. our ..love ..win
The day I asked her to marry me
We stood alone, but not afraid
Two hearts that never played charades
They can talk, they can spin
But they weren’t there ...when we ....took each other in....
The day I asked her to marry me
We’ve danced through storms and spotlight haze
We’ve kissed in silence, not for praise
We’ve held each other through the doubt
And never once did we sell out
She’s not a headline, I’m not a brand
We’re just two souls who understand
That love’s not loud, it’s not rehearsed
It’s choosing someone for better or worse
The day I asked her to marry me
We stood alone, but not afraid
Two hearts that never played charades
They can talk, they can spin
But they weren’t there ...when we... took each other in...
The day I asked her to marry me...
The day I asked her to marry me....the.. best... day ...
The day I asked her... to marry me...

Thank You T. M! and Love you Del Players YOU!

All rights held by the songwriter Edwin H. Balder

Link to more of our Singer/songwriter style hits you can cover into fame because of your take!

soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/best-new-folk-americana?si=04e0155163644977b37cf8c0a04f3c53&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medi

The Day I Asked Her to Marry Me  by Tommy Monacca

This ain’t my case, but it holds my song
The one I’m writing to right the wrong
I left my guitar in a pawnshop downtown
Traded six strings for a bottle and a breakdown
Said I’d be back in a week or two
But the truth is, I never knew
Now I’m playing borrowed wood and steel
Trying to remember how to feel
The neck’s too wide, the tone’s too thin
But I still hear her voice within
So I’m singing this tune to buy it back
The one I lost when I lost track
Of who I was and what I meant
Of every dollar, every cent
This borrowed case, this borrowed sound
Is holding me until I’m found
I ain’t rich, I ain’t got fame
But I’ve got this new song... that will make you...remember my name...get me back in the... game
She said, “You write like you’re bleeding slow”
I said, “That’s the only way I know”
She kissed my hand, then closed the door
And I wrote her name into the score
Now I play for tips and second looks
For coffee cups and worn-out books
But every chord I bend and break
Is one more step I get to take
So I’m singing this tune to buy it back
The one I lost when I lost track
Of who I was and what I meant
Of every dollar, every cent
This borrowed case, this borrowed sound
Is holding me until I’m found
I ain’t rich, I ain’t got fame
But I’ve got this new song... that will make you...remember my name...get me back in the... game
I remember the day I let it go
The clerk said, “Man, you sure you know?”
I said, “It’s just wood, it’s just wire”
But I felt the burn of funeral fire
Now I dream in minor keys
Of open mics and memories
And every song I write tonight
Is one more chance to make it right
So I’m singing this tune to buy it back
The one I lost when I lost track
Of who I was and what I meant
Of every dollar, every cent
This borrowed case, this borrowed sound
Is holding me until I’m found
I ain’t rich, I ain’t got fame
But I’ve got this new song... that will make you...remember my name...get me back in the... game
This ain’t my case, but it holds my song
And maybe that’s where I belong
I ain’t rich, I ain’t got fame
But I’ve got this new song... that will make you...remember again

Borrowed Case (Buy It Back Ballad)

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

New tracks tagged #ballad #solo #pianosolo #lovesong