eight years

i wonder if i'll lose my way in the water

my partner did most of the vocals on this album. i thought her voice would be fitting for this track

Written and produced by oakly

Artwork by me

eight years

Sweep Apple 

such a bad habbit

Written and produced by oakly

Artwork by me

Sweep Apple

Kimdir Bu insan?

Chill, romantic, uplifting Rock Pop song. Bittersweet melodies and male vocals take you on a warm, retro, unpolished Groovy, Flowing Love Song. Pulsing with Acoustic Guitars and Drums

BUTTERFLY

A New Day

New Day

Scales of Justice

Dusk Till Dawn ( New version)

this song I made is called good bye, I made the song by sampling a sound from TikTok and went from there. this song is inspired by Kanye and Tyler the creator

Good Bye

Ever read the ingredients list on your soda bottle and thought: “This is basically my Tinder profile in chemical form”?
This song is for all of us who like our love calorie-reduced, EFSA-approved, and shelf-stable until the end of time.

It’s Grapefruit from the lab. It’s Niacin in your night dreams. It’s Aspartam in your heartstrings.
A bittersweet hymn to artificial romance, sung with jangly guitars, post-punk sighs, and indie swagger.

Perfect for:
🥤 Reading nutritional labels like holy scripture
🏙 Daydreaming about tropical beaches in the middle of an industrial estate
💔 Falling in love with something that doesn’t actually love you back — but tastes amazing

Warning: May cause uncontrollable toe-tapping and a sudden urge to thank your local chemical engineer.

Lyrics:

Ich les’ das Etikett wie ein Horoskop,
da steht mein Schicksal: Kalorien im Notstand.
Vier Süßstoffe und ein bisschen Fruchtkonzentrat,
schmeckt nach Tropenurlaub – aus der Fabrikstadt.

Vitamin C, B6 und ein Schuss Niacin,
und wenn du willst, kriegst du auch noch Biotin.
Nur kein Zucker, dafür Aspartam,
das ist keine Liebe – aber nah dran.

Und die Sonne scheint durch Plastikflaschen,
und mein Herz schlägt im Acesulfam-Takt.
Ich brauch keinen Fruchtsaft,
ich brauch nur den Geschmack…

🎶 Das ist alles, was ich will –
ein bisschen Grapefruit aus dem Labor.
Das ist alles, was ich will –
künstliche Küsse in mein Ohr.
Das ist alles, was ich will –
Citronensäure im Sonnenschein.
Alles, was ich will –
soll künstlich und unsterblich sein. 🎶

Kaliumcitrat, das klingt wie ein Song,
den nur Chemiker im Sommer singen.
0,3 Gramm Zucker – ich fühl mich so frei,
und doch so wunderbar gefangen im Einerlei.

Sie sagen: „Das ist gesund, im Rahmen der Norm“ –
aber mein Durst ist längst außer Form.
Ich trink die Wahrheit aus PET,
und frag mich, was davon im Körper überlebt.

Und die Welt dreht sich wie Kohlensäureblasen,
ich seh’ mein Leben in Aspartamfarben.
Kein echter Saft,
aber ich spür’ den Saft…

🎶 Das ist alles, was ich will –
ein bisschen Orange aus der Maschine.
Das ist alles, was ich will –
Süßstoffträume in der Vitrine.
Das ist alles, was ich will –
Natriumcyclamat in der Nacht.
Alles, was ich will –
hat die EFSA für mich abgesegnet, sacht. 🎶

Oh Baby, gieß mich ein,
in dein Glas aus Zeit und Schein.
Oh Baby, mach mich klar,
so wie Wasser ohne Gefahr.

Wasser, Kohlensäure, künstliches Paradies,
ich weiß, dass du mich nie verlässt –
weil du niemals schlecht wirst, niemals gehst,
und niemals echt bist.

Das ist alles was ich will

🎸✨ Lies, half-truths, and tall tales wrapped in indie rock, dipped in jangle pop, and sprinkled with post-punk irony. This track is basically a musical fact-checker: neighbors who “won the jackpot” but need bus money, ex-classmates with “beauty queens” who look more like haunted tiaras, and sweethearts whispering eternal love right before locking lips behind the grocery store.

It’s catchy. It’s bitter-sweet. It’s funny in the way only human delusions can be funny.
And yes, the song will be number one in the U.S. any day now… (or is that just another fantasy?).

Plug in your headphones, shake your head at the nonsense of life, and sing along:
“So it turned out to be… only fantasy.”

Lyrics:

She said she loves me, and there is only me,
Whispered sweet promises, like waves upon the sea.
But a few days later, what did I see?
Her kissing another man, behind the grocery.

So it turned out to be, only fantasy.
Cheap little words, but they never carried me.
So it turned out to be, only fantasy —
Painted-up tales with no reality.

My neighbor told me, with a sparkle in his eye,
He won the big jackpot, man, he touched the sky.
But the very next week, he’s knocking on my door,
“Could you lend me some money? I’m a little bit poor...”

So it turned out to be, only fantasy.
Cheap little words, but they never carried me.
So it turned out to be, only fantasy —
Painted-up tales with no reality.

An old classmate found me, on a late night street,
Said he married a beauty queen, the world at his feet.
But when she came ‘round the corner, truth hit me fast,
Let’s just say the pageant crown was stuck in the past...

So it turned out to be, only fantasy.
Cheap little words, but they never carried me.
So it turned out to be, only fantasy —
Painted-up tales with no reality.

Stories we tell, to shine a little more,
But when the mask slips, we’ve all heard it before.
Truth is a mirror, lies crack it apart,
Every cheap story leaves a scar on the heart.

And now I tell you, with a wink and a smile,
This song’s number one in the U.S. in a while.
But when the charts are out, and you look for me —
Well, guess what, friends? It’s pure fantasy...

So it turned out to be, only fantasy.
Cheap little words, but they never carried me.
So it turned out to be, only fantasy —
Painted-up tales with no reality.

Fantasy

Most people see a bug in the kitchen and go full horror movie: screaming, shoe-throwing, and spraying half a can of Raid. But what if… that tiny six-legged stranger is actually a hopeless romantic in a tuxedo-shell, humming a love song, on his way to a candlelit sugar-crystal dinner?

“Cute Bugs” is jangle pop meets indie rock meets post-punk whimsy — a track where ladybugs flirt like ballroom dancers, beetles straighten their shells like nervous prom dates, and even cockroaches get a verse of tender poetry. It’s surreal, it’s funny, and weirdly… it’s a little heartwarming too.

So next time a bug walks across your kitchen counter, don’t panic. Offer him a waltz, a crumb of bread, maybe even a sonnet. After all:
Cute bugs, hey hey — little hearts on six legs play. 🐞✨

Lyrics:

In the kitchen at night, little footsteps crawl,
Most would scream, throw a shoe at the wall.
But I see tiny eyes, shining brave and bright,
A gentleman bug, dressed up for the night.

He combs his feelers, he straightens his shell,
Humming a tune only bug hearts can tell.
Does he dream of roses, or sugar on a plate?
Or maybe a ladybug, waiting for a date?

Cute bugs, hey hey,
Little hearts on six legs play.
Cute bugs, hey hey,
Buzzing love won’t fly away. 

A scientist laughs, a poet takes a note,
Romantic women write them secret oaths.
Not monsters, no—just dancers so small,
With a waltz of wings in a ballroom hall.

They flirt with antennae, they bow with grace,
Tiny tuxedos in a moonlit place.
Do they write sonnets in crumbs of bread?
Or whisper goodnight when the daylight’s dead?

Cute bugs, hey hey,
Little hearts on six legs play.
Cute bugs, hey hey,
Buzzing love won’t fly away. 

Imagine their dreams, so tender, so sweet,
A candlelit dinner of spilled sugar treat.
Two beetles leaning close, wings brushed in time,
Love is love, in rhythm and rhyme.

Cute bugs, hey hey,
Little hearts on six legs play.
Cute bugs, hey hey,
Buzzing love won’t fly away. 

So next time a bugman walks in your view,
Remember he’s dreaming just like you do.
Not ugly, not scary, just living their song,
Cute bugs in the world, where we all belong.

Cute Bugs

Think of this as a caffeinated elegy: you, a sticky glass of cola, and the world’s longest ten-second existential crisis — played with jangly guitars, a sneer of post-punk, and a heart that forgot its lines. Perfect for mornings that feel like a badly timed replay and nights when you’re trying to remember why you left the house in the first place. 🥤⏰

If you like your melancholy with a rim of sugar and a chorus that hums like a clock stuck between shrug and breakdown, this one’s for you. Walk out of your flat, stand in the drizzle, pretend you’re in a noir film, and accidentally start a singalong nobody asked for.

Press play, sip something fizzy, and ask the important questions: will this moment matter, or will it just fizzle out like bad cola? If you like what you hear, tell someone — or don’t. We won’t name the napkin. 🎸✨

Lyrics:

It's 10:04, I checked the clock again
One hand moves while I remain
Empty chairs and silver spoons
Muted echoes in this quiet saloon
The tiles still smell of yesterday's bread
But no one's here, just me instead
An older woman gave this glass
Coca-Cola fizzing like the past
She vanished to the desk again
While I watched in like I might offend
Every tick is merciless
This hour won't stop to care, I guess
I'm the only soul at this morning show
Sip in silence, letting go

And I sip on my cola drink, let my thoughts sink
Why am I feeling sad and what is this life about? How to find out?
How to find out?
And I sip on my cola drink as the minutes blink
Will this moment matter or will it just burn out?
How to find out? How to find out?

The labels are in a foreign script
And I can't ask what I've just sipped
The floor is clean, the light is soft
Yet something heavy won't come off
Behind the glass, she checks the phone
I wonder if she feels alone
I think of all the things I've lost
And how each joy has had its cost
This taste, this place, this quiet bar
Will fade like faces in a passing car
No trumpet sounds, no final clue
Just time that swallows me and you
Each weekday morning looks the same
But none of them will get a name

And I sip on my cola drink, let my thoughts sink
Why am I feeling sad and what is this life about? How to find out?
How to find out?
And I sip on my cola drink as the minutes blink
Will this moment matter or will it just burn out?
How to find out? How to find out?

9 o'clock was a second ago
11 is breathing down my neck
Days fold like napkins
Weeks vanish like steam
And one day this room will be dust
And I won't even know what I forgot

And I sip on my cola drink, let my thoughts sink
Why am I feeling sad and what is this life about? How to find out?
How to find out?
And I sip on my cola drink, let my thoughts sink
Why am I feeling sad and what is this life about? How to find out?
How to find out?
And I sip on my cola drink as the world shrinks
No one will remember, not even me, no doubt
How to find out?

Coca Cola (Indie Rock Version)

A Walk in September is a heartfelt indie rock / alternative pop track that blends raw emotion with a crisp autumn feel. The song tells the story of change, reflection, and moving forward when the world feels heavy but beautiful. With driving guitars, soaring melodies, and lyrics that paint vivid pictures of long walks and shifting seasons, this track is both nostalgic and hopeful.

If you love music that sits between Alternative Rock, Indie Pop, and Modern Rock, this one is for you. Play it loud, share it with friends, and let it soundtrack your September nights.

✨ For fans of: The 1975, Phoebe Bridgers, Kings of Leon, Coldplay, and indie rock playlists.

#IndieRock #AlternativePop #SeptemberVibes #AWalkInSeptember

A WALK IN SEPTEMBER

Ever had that moment when your phone lights up with the name — the one that still makes your stomach do a confused gymnastics routine — but instead of running off for a secret rendezvous, you’re stuck sipping lukewarm tea at a touristy hotel while your kid dreams of knights and castles? Yeah, this song is exactly that.

It’s indie rock tangled with jangle pop nerves and post-punk excuses: guitars that sparkle like sunlight on a too-white hotel balcony, a bassline that sounds like pacing in flip-flops, and drums that slam shut like a text bubble turning gray.

“Not today, babe” becomes the world’s most melodramatic out-of-office reply — part soap opera, part self-care, part “my WiFi signal is terrible and so is my judgment.” It’s the sound of almost saying yes, but instead writing “maybe next time” while hiding under the covers.

So if you’ve ever dodged an old flame with excuses ranging from mild illness to spiritual unavailability — congratulations, this track is your new national anthem.

Play it loud, dodge responsibly, and remember: not today, babe.

Lyrics: 

Sunny place, old hotel
My boy’s asleep, I’m doing well
A ping, a name I used to know
“You’re nearby?” …whoa-oh-oh

You say, "Let's meet?" — I sip my tea
Look at the sky, not the screen
Got a kid, a mood, a messy head
So I type these words instead

Not today, babe — I’m feelin’ kinda sick
Catchin’ something — must be quick
Leavin’ early — need my bed
(Yeah, I said what I said)

Not today, babe — I’d love to but no
Maybe next time — maybe so
It’s just not right, not tonight
(I’m alright… but not that alright) 

You were fire, I was rain
Now we’re just a weekend train
Could’ve met you near the gate
But I guess I hesitate

My boy dreams of castle kings
While I’m dodging old flame flings
Your name glows, my heart skips
But I send a text with careful lips

Not today, babe — I’m feelin’ kinda weird
Too much sun or too much fear
Leavin’ early — got my ride
(And a little pride to hide)

Not today, babe — oh, timing’s tight
What we had was outta sight
But I’m not that girl, not this week
(Though I miss the way you speak) 

Could’ve been wine and maybe more
But I locked that window, closed that door
Send a kiss through pixel haze
Then I dance the doubt away…

Not today, babe — the signal’s weak
I lost my voice, I cannot speak
Leavin’ early, feelin’ pale
(But you still read every tale)

Not today, babe — you kinda knew
I was tempted, I was too
But the mom in me just smiled
And the girl in me… went wild

Not Today, Babe (Indie Rock Version)

What happens when a philosophy seminar sneaks into a basement club with a dodgy disco ball? You get this track: guitars that argue like old Marxists at a coffeehouse, drums that can’t decide if they’re anxious or euphoric, and a bassline that sounds like it just read too much Kierkegaard.

It’s the sound of sneakers stomping on footnotes, of doubt doing a high-kick, of someone yelling “Die Welt ist kompliziert – aber das hält uns nicht vom Tanzen ab!” while spilling their spritzer. Somewhere between alarm clock and déjà-vu, you’ll find the hook — not absolute truth, just absolute groove.

So put on your existential eyeliner, grab your epistemological beverage of choice, and dance like every thought has a backbeat. Because sometimes the only manifesto worth signing is the one written in reverb.

Lyrics:

„Die Welt ist kompliziert.
Aber das hält uns nicht vom Tanzen ab.“

Sie sagt: „Immer wenn ich was spüre,
wird’s politisch oder schräg.“
Ich sag: „Nicht immer – nur nicht selten,
und das macht’s ja grade zäh.“

Du schaust mich an wie ein Lexikon,
mit Fußnoten in deinen Augen.
Doch meine Wahrheit trägt Sneakers
und will sich endlich mal wieder austoben.

Nicht selten – aber auch nicht immer
Ein bisschen warm, ein bisschen schlimmer
Nicht selten – aber nie ganz klar
Zwischen Alarmglocke und Déjà-vu déjà dar
Nicht selten – doch auch nicht Gesetz
Wir tanzen auf dem Komma, nicht auf’m letzten Vers

Sie sagt: „Die meinen doch alle das Gleiche“
Ich sag: „Ja, vielleicht. Nur nicht gleichzeitig.“
Denn Denken im Takt heißt:
Ein Schritt nach vorn, zwei zurück – aber groovy.

Dein Weltbild zittert im Stroboskop
Zwischen Talkshow und Telegram
Ich sag: „Frag dich leise:
Was wäre, wenn der Zweifel recht haben kann?“

Nicht selten – aber auch nicht immer
Ein Groove aus Gold, ein Zweifel im Schimmer
Nicht selten – doch nie pauschal
Wir tanzen durch’s Denken, fall’n ins Ideal
Nicht selten – kein kategorischer Beat
Nur eine Hook, die sich nicht widerspricht.

„Es ist möglich.
Es ist denkbar.
Es ist kompliziert.
Und das ist wunderschön.“

Nicht selten – aber auch nicht immer
(Mal Licht, mal Flimmer, mal kalter Schimmer)
Nicht selten – und das ist gut so
Denn alles Absolute ist nur Deko.

Nicht selten…
Aber niemals dumm.

Nicht selten, aber auch nicht immer (Indie Rock Version)

🎸 Welcome to my musical journey! 🎶

Hey there, music enthusiasts! I'm Oz a hobbyist musician who's been strumming the strings of my guitar since my teenage years. Music has always been my passion, weaving its melodies through every chapter of my life. From the intricate rhythms of Oriental music to the rebellious energy of pop-punk, the timeless allure of blues, the groove of funk, and the nostalgia of electronic sounds from the '80s and '90s, I find inspiration in a diverse array of genres.

For me, music is more than just sound – it's a language of emotions, a canvas where I paint my feelings and experiences. The power of music to evoke and express emotions never ceases to amaze me. Being part of this vibrant community here on SoundCloud fuels my creative drive and pushes me to explore new sonic landscapes.

As the legendary Bob Marley once said, "One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain." So join me on this musical voyage, where we'll dive deep into the ocean of melodies and rhythms, sharing moments of joy, introspection, and everything in between.

Let's make some noise together! 🤘

Writer / Producer / Musician / Singer  From Greenwich Village NYC.
has made music with U2, BOB DYLAN,LUSCIOUS JACKSON, WILLIE NELSON, CHRIS WHITLEY,BRANDI, FAITH HILL, SALT N PEPA, ZIGGY MARLEY, EMMY LOU HARRIS, DIDO.

17 year old singer, rapper, producer, songwriter I’ve been making music since I was in 5th or 6th grade

Hi there — welcome to my corner of the web.

I’m here for one simple reason: to share my music with you.
Take a listen, explore, and I hope something here resonates with you. Enjoy the vibe!

New tracks tagged #indierockband