Triple Six / Kansas City, MO
IG: prod.triplesix
Inquiries: ttriplesixx@gmail.com or on social media
Beats are free to use just send me your work

Chief Keef x Young Thug x Future Type Beat "Turbo" (prod. ThreeSix)

Musician and lead singer of the band Simple Minds joins Frank Mackay on this episode of The Frank Mackay Show! 

The Frank MacKay Show - Jim Kerr

Travis

Violoncello and Piano By Nadiege Sabate No.90

Violoncello and Piano By Nadiege Sabate No.91

Violoncello and Piano By Nadiege Sabate No.92

Violoncello and Piano By Nadiege Sabate No.93

Violoncello and Piano By Nadiege Sabate No.94

Violoncello and Piano By Nadiege Sabate No.95

This song is open source and free to cover
She Don't Text Me Now  by songwriter Edwin H Balder
last tuesday she sent a smiley face
now my screen’s a ghost with good taste
i still charge my phone just in case—
but she don’t text me now
we used to talk in coffee codes
little gifs, and inside jokes
“meet me out back” meant skip the show
now i just stare where her name won't glow
i write and erase like it’ll change her mind
but silence hits harder the thousandth time
she used to read me without a sound—
but now
she don’t text me now
she don’t text me now, not even a hey
no typo’d heart, no halfway hey
used to get "miss you" out of the blue
now the blue’s just where i talk to truth
tried to play it cool, but i forgot how
she don’t text me now... and it shows somehow
i see her name in my contact list
like a gravestone i can’t resist
tapped it once—then hit backspace
felt like trespassin' on her grace
she don't owe me closure lines
but i still scroll through better times
and all those gifs, those dumb throwdowns—
they live where
she don’t text me now
she don’t text me now, not even a hey
no typo’d heart, no halfway hey
used to get "miss you" out of the blue
now the blue’s just where i talk to truth
tried to play it cool, but i forgot how
she don’t text me now... and it shows somehow
funny how the loudest hurt
don’t come from words that hit like dirt
but from the quiet, slow delete—
like love backed out on two bare feet
i used to think goodbye was loud
but silence?
that’s a thundercloud
i keep her jokes in a hidden file
with screengrabs of her crooked smile
i ain't proud, but i still check
the “last seen” mark like it’s a wreck
there’s no alert, no final vow
just this quiet ache in the here and now
and a song i hum but won’t write down
’cause it ends like
she don’t text me now
she don’t text me now, not even a hey
no midnight call, no “how’s your day?”
i’m still here with that same old phone
like a front porch light that's left alone
used to mean love... i don't know how
but she don’t text me now
maybe someday she’ll drop a line
three words, or just “the weather’s fine”
but ’til then, i don’t ask how
i just breathe slow...
’cause
she don’t text me now

The best cross section playlist of our work with new releases added at the end each week:

 https://soundcloud.com/edwin-balder/sets/future-hits-4u-here?si=df2f5fac47e74c1583a329f4cf12fe51&utm_source=clipboard&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=social_sharing



All Rights Reserved Edwin H. Balder
Thanks so much to my pals & players at Del's Studio
See Our Music Videos Here> https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-509h42heKT05D8egf2U9w




She Don't Text Me Now  by songwriter Edwin H Balder

Frank MacKay is the talk show host of a number of popular radio shows and podcasts, including "The Frank Mackay Show," "The Hollywood Chronicles," and "Crime Spree."

https://www.tumblr.com/nadiegesabate1990/741926170107543552/nadiege-and-the-four-seasons?source=share

KCMO / Producer 
All beats are free for use
Inquiries // threesixbeatss@gmail.com or on social media

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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