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Moments By Songwriter Edwin H. Balder
a half-lit room, the coffee’s cold
the morning holds what time won’t fold
shadows dance on hardwood floors—
a moment’s all we're asking for
that birthday card tucked in a drawer
her voice still echoes through the torn
dad’s old jacket, frayed and stained
smells like the storm that taught me pain
the way she smiled, without a word
the fight we had, the truth that burned
i thought it all would slip away
but moments know how hearts replay
they're just moments / blinking fast
no warning sign, no second pass
but they build you / piece by piece
and echo loud where silence speaks
you don’t need more / than what they give—
these little sparks / become how we live
music solo
first time driving, hands all wrong
but i still felt i could belong
a song played low behind her tears
when she said goodbye through twenty years
a child's laugh down grocery aisles
the kindness in a stranger's smile
a scar that speaks without regret
a promise made, not broken yet
they're just moments / passed in haze
but they replay in quiet ways
the touch you miss / the word you kept
the crack in armor where you wept
no photograph / no name to write—
but they stay with you every night
i saw the sunset paint her hair
the vows we wrote still floating there
the fight we lost, the peace we gained
and everything that love explained
the road grew long, the stars grew thin
but i found grace beneath her grin
she asked me, “do you feel it too?”
i said, “moments are what pulled me through”
you won’t recall the date or street
but you’ll remember who you meet
the things they said, the way you felt
the truth that made your sorrow melt
don’t chase forever—just stand still
it’s moments that decide the will
they're just moments / stolen breath
they fight off time, they soften death
they write your life in quiet ink
they fill the gaps between the brink
so hold them close, like whispered light—
and let them guide you through the night
the fire fades / the voices dim
but moments hum beneath the hymn
they’re all we get / they’re all we need
the story lives… in moments freed
music solo fade out

Moments By Songwriter Edwin H. Balder

Born blue in the early light
June thirtieth, fifty-two fight
Umbilical cord like a noose of fate
But I kicked through the odds and showed up late
Radio played the greatest game
While my mama breathed through the pain
They gave me my father’s name in case
I never got to see her face

[Verse 2]
Long Island house with garage dreams
Dad chased power, split the seams
Mom was a nurse with steady grace
Held the line when we lost our place
Puerto Rico, factory start
Fell apart like a hopeful heart
We came back broke but still intact
Till love turned cold and the past looked back

[Chorus – Hook]
I’ve been lost, I’ve been found
I’ve been spun all around
From Saranac snow to desert sun
From broken vows to the only one
I’ve been a name, I’ve been a flame
I’ve been the quiet in the loudest game
And if this is the end of the mile
I pass with a smile

[Verse 3]
School in the snow, boots too thin
Then west I went, let the heat begin
L.A. lights and Phoenix dust
New Mexico dreams that turned to rust
Married wrong, but love came right
Julie and the kids lit up my night
Built a life no one could steal
Invented truth, wrote what I feel

[Bridge – Spoken-sung]
I’ve been the song no one heard
I’ve been the man behind the word
I’ve been the fire, I’ve been the grace
I’ve been the soul time can’t erase

[Final Chorus – Hook]
I’ve been lost, I’ve been found
I’ve been spun all around
From Saranac snow to desert sun
From broken vows to the only one
I’ve been a name, I’ve been a flame
I’ve been the quiet in the loudest game
And if this is the end of the mile
I pass with a smile

[Outro – Fade with soft sax and acoustic fingerpicking]
I pass with a smile…
I pass with a smile…    Love you all...e

I Pass with a Smile by songwiter Edwin H. Balder

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

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