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When asked if I ever wrote a song to die for...

Drifting Into Tomorrow

(Verse 1) In the quiet of my days, a broken sense prevails, Interactions like fractured glass, their edges sharp and frail. Life’s canvas painted gray, compassion dimmed and worn, Yet deep within my heart, a yearning to be reborn.

(Pre-Chorus) I crave salvation’s touch, a melody profound, To mend the fractured chords, to weave a healing sound. Oh, won’t you be my guide, my compass through the night? Lead me to that sacred ground where music takes flight.

(Chorus) Drifting into sorrow, carried by the tide, Lost in memories of what once bloomed and died. But hope, a fragile vessel, sails toward the dawn, As I seek solace in the echoes of what’s gone.

(Verse 2) The sunsets we once shared, their hues now faded gold, Moments soft like watercolors such stories left untold. I hope you find my voice, to sing your name in tune, To bridge the gaps between us, beneath a memory moon.

(Pre-Chorus) And so I drift, a wanderer, seeking solace’s embrace, Tomorrow’s canvas blank, awaiting colors to replace The grayness of my soul, the ache that pulls me low, Perhaps borrowed peace will stop by to say hello

(Chorus) Drifting into sorrow, carried by the tide, Lost in memories of what once bloomed and died. But hope, a fragile vessel, sails toward the dawn, As I seek solace in the echoes of what’s gone.

(Bridge) The wind whispers secrets, when the stars align, As if the universe conspires to rewrite our design. I’ll write of love anew, with notes of moonlight grace, And find redemption in the tears upon my face.

(Chorus) Drifting into sorrow, carried by the tide, Lost in memories of what once bloomed and died. But hope, a fragile vessel, sails toward the dawn, As I seek solace in the echoes of what’s gone.

(Outro) So let me drift, let me dream, let me borrow time, For in these fractured moments,I compose a symphony devine. And when the morning breaks, and shadows drift away, I found my sacred ground, in the music I have played

Thanks to my band: Hot Cookie!

All Rights Reserved by Edwin H. Balder

Sacred Ground By Edwin H. Balder

Шаг до края

06 - Новый дивный мир ( dance version)

07 - Шаг до края (dance version)

Is It an Illusion?

On a mission to save my homeworld.
🚀

In a distant universe, following a 10,000-year galactic war, a lone wanderer discovers a sacred mission: to find the Celestium Crystal- a legendary space weapon that changes the subatomic frequencies of particles to the frequency of love. This will allow him to heal his universe from the devastation of the 10, 000 year war. To do this, it needs to be charged and it is charged in the presence of other living beings when they radiate love, joy and happiness.  Earth was the closest to him and discovered by  playing his music here on Earth, which has an abundance of life, he may create feelings of joy and happiness in the crowds who in turn charge the Celestium Crystal powering it which will allow him to traverse back across the multiverse and save his universe from the clutches of his possessed brother - the dread lord - who traded  his soul to the Erishkigal (a group of creatures/deities) from the underworld in exchange for ultimate power .

A musical group from Kharkov, near the front, created by Vlad (Fasendeck) and Julia (Juls). The main directions are Rock, Pop, Dance, sometimes quite diluted with epic motifs. Although they are experimenting with other directions, up to heavy rock. The meaning of songs is considered no less, if not more important than the energy of melody and rhythm. Among their compositions, you will not find banal words over the melodies of "three notes".  The phrases they use to describe themselves - "if the song doesn't build, then at least it helps us survive" and "MAGA - Make Audio Good Again" - once again emphasize that, in addition to emotions, music should also appeal to the mind.

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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