Centuries deep in cryo sleep
I dreamed of vinyl stars and static hearts
Time slipped past in frozen breath
I woke alone, beyond regret
Frozen in sleep, I missed the years
Dreams in static, songs in tears
Woke to silence, stars gone cold
The world I knew was long untold
Drifting through the black unknown
A signal hum, a vault alone
Carved in constellations deep
It called to me from cryo sleep
I touched the door, it sang my name
A melody through time and flame
Vault of wonder, vault of light
Where echoes bloom and ghosts ignite
I found my voice in silence loud
Vault of wonder—play me proud
Faces fade in memory’s glow
But music keeps what time won’t show
I danced alone in zero-G
To songs that once remembered me
I am the chorus, I am the cry
I am the verse that never died
A traveler lost, a soul unclaimed
But in this vault, I’m not unnamed
I am the shimmer in the static stream
The hook you hum inside a dream
I am the bridge they never crossed
The final note the world had lost
Sing me loud, sing me true
I am the vault—and I found you
Vault of wonder, vault of light
Where echoes bloom and ghosts ignite
I found my voice in silence loud
Vault of wonder—play me proud
Vault of wonder… vault of me…
Vault of wonder… vault of me…
If you hear this… know I lived…
Vault of wonder… vault of me…
Sing it loud… eternally… 

🌹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

“Vault of Wonder”  by 🌹 Tina Talone🌹

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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