Hi there, brilliant song, really cool! I'd like to tweak it and make a French version, for commercial use (with credits of course). Would that be OK? Are there any restrictions? Thanks and keep safe

wonderful song - I'm sure a lot of folks can relate to this one.

Hi, can I use the song for a professionnal podcast ? with the credits of course

Elegant & Romantic

Mood Glow (Kinny) 4:53

Rod Kinny: Vocals, Bass, Acoustic Guitars. Noah Levy: Drums. Bobby Schnitzer: Electric Guitars. Matt Fink: Keyboards, Backing Vocals. Scott Horwath: Keyboards. Rose Oyamot: Backing Vocals. Engineered by Steven R. Hall. Mastered by Joe Lambert. Produced by Rod Kinny. From the Rod Kinny ep. C2005 Our Kay Songs.

The Definitive Collection

Mood Glow

This is my first track for 2015!!! I wish i had a gospel choir for the middle section of the song but the only one available to sing was a white guy with a cold. Nevermind...

Here are the lyrics:

I am walking down the street
thanking the Lord i still got my feet
there's so much pain and crying 
all around me

As i'm still walking down the road
all that i do is to sing my song
man i'm so glad that sadness hasn't 
found me

I' m waiting for nothing
this is really something
i' m telling you one thing
i' m waiting for nothing

Some crazy people are passing me by
they 're always running but i don't know why
whatever they 're chasing
they don't seem to catch it

The sun is setting behind a cloud
a strange red light is filling the town
thank God that i have still the eyes 
to see it

I' m waiting for nothing
this is really something
i' m telling you one thing
i' m waiting for nothing

Got to get to the point
where the only feel is joy
and we won't keep trying to
break each others' hearts

Got to get to a place
where we all can find the space
and the time we need to
fix our broken parts

My girl has run away from me
i guess it's sad but it had to be
i hope she knows that i will 
always love her, love her, 
love her, love her...

I'm waiting for nothing
this is really something
i' m telling you one thing
i' m waiting for nothing


Down

Waiting For Nothing

Experience Into the Woods at your fingertips. This original piano solo blends cinematic atmosphere with quiet melancholy, perfect for advanced beginners to intermediate players who enjoy expressive, storytelling music. Ideal for autumn recitals, Halloween performances, or anyone who loves dark fair.

Check out the music video here:
https://youtu.be/2LzKml1NPJ0?si=D4Ic5FS0IiNA69wN

Into the Woods

"Sea Fever" is a song for piano and voice written bei John Ireland in 1913, with lyrics by John Masefield.

Piano by Helen Roberts

We hope you'll enjoy, and spend some time by the sea, if you can :)


artwork by Joaquín Sorolla

Sea Fever (John Ireland - a reprise with Helen Roberts)

A fairly sparse instrumental for guitar

Guitar: Hanika Natural Doubletop - Cedar

Transparent One

THE KNIGHT AND THE DAMSEL

The city skyline is my castle wall
The freeway's roar, a dragon's call
I ride the concrete in this rusted steel
Chasing a ghost I know was real

I saw your face in a crowded train
A flash of light, a sudden rain
But the doors they closed, the moment passed
An echo of a love that's meant to last

And it's an impossible love, a never-ending night
You're a damsel in a penthouse, burning ever-bright
I'm a knight in faded denim on a downtown street
A love we can't surrender, a vow we can't complete

I won't forget you, you won't forget me
For all eternity...

You're in a tower of glass and chrome
A different world you call your home
I see your light on the thirty-first floor
A lonely star I'm searching for

I could send a text, a hopeless please
But some doors are locked for a man like me
So I just stand guard in the neon glow
The only kind of knight you'll never know

And it's an impossible love, a never-ending night
You're a damsel in a penthouse, burning ever-bright
I'm a knight in faded denim on a downtown street
A love we can't surrender, a vow we can't complete

I won't forget you, you won't forget me 
For all eternity...

Maybe in another life, another age
We'd turn the final page
On a storybook of silver and of gold
But here and now, the tale is told
In silent glances, stolen sights
Across the divide of endless nights
This love's not broken, it's not undone
It's a battle that can never be won... or lost.

This IMPOSSIBLE LOVE! This never-ending night!
You're MY damsel in that penthouse, burning ever-bright!
I'm your knight on this asphalt, on this lonely street!
This love we can't surrender, this vow we can't complete!

I WON'T forget you! You WON'T forget me!
For all eternity!

Eternity...

Ephemeral horizons

The knight and the damsel

In collaboration with Francess Harris. She played the piano composition and I did the composition of the orchestral arrangement. Thank you for listening and enjoy. Any comment is appreciated always.

Soundscapes Vol. 4 (Timothy McGuire & Francess Harris)

Starting Again

Starting Again (feat. Fr. Harris)

Piano Concerto No.7 (iv) Op. 47

Pour qui je compte     ( Translated following the French text )

Vidéo :   https://youtu.be/9njE-7si0d0
Texte :           Muette
Chant lead : Philippe J
Choeurs :      Liora 

Il y a des carnets
Et des mots égarés
Tout au fond des tiroirs
Et qu'on n'relit jamais
Parce qu'on est en retard
Et qu'y a toujours quelqu'un
Dont il faut prendre soin
Et ce quelqu'un, c'est jamais soi.

Dans la frileuse Flandre,
Sous les chênes et les hêtres,
Il y a ce tas de cendre
Après un feu de fête.
Au milieu, des canettes,
Des souv'nirs jetés là
Qu'on ramass' les yeux las
Pour les trier plus tard, peut-être.

Alors on compte sur ses doigts.
Un' seul' main suffit quand on s'dit :
Pour qui je compte vraiment ?

Les glacières dans le coffre,
La guitare dans sa housse,
On se serre un peu fort.
Un dernier regard pour
Les lits de mousse tassée,
Et les arbres muets
Mêm' quand l' bûch'ron les couche.
Et chacun r'part de son côté.

Alors on compte sur ses doigts.
Un' seul' main suffit quand on s'dit:
Pour qui je compte vraiment ?

Et puis quand la clairière,
S'éclaircit plus encore,
Qu'on sait par cœur le bois,
Ses pièges, ses réconforts,
Assis sur les souches
On se parle à soi-même
En dénombrant ses doigts.
On se demande : Qui m'aime ? Qui m'aime ?
Et une seule main suffit. 

For whom I count on

There are notebooks
And lost words
At the bottom of drawers
That we never reread
Because we're late
And there's always someone
We have to take care of
And that someone is never ourselves.

In chilly Flanders,
Under the oak and beech trees,
There is a pile of ashes
After a festive bonfire.
In the middle, cans,
Memories thrown away
That we pick up with weary eyes
To sort through later, perhaps.

So we count on our fingers.
One hand is enough when we ask ourselves:
Who do I really count on?

The coolers in the trunk,
The guitar in its case,
We hug a little tighter.
One last look at
The beds of packed moss,
And the silent trees
Even when the lumberjack cuts them down.
And everyone goes their separate ways.

So we count on our fingers.
One hand is enough when we say to ourselves:
Who do I really count on?

And then when the clearing
Grows even brighter,
When we know the woods by heart,
Its traps, its comforts,
Sitting on the stumps
We talk to ourselves
Counting our fingers.
We ask ourselves: Who loves me? Who loves me?
And one hand is enough.

Pour qui je compte. avec Philippe J

I owe my entire professional career to copywriting. writing was an obvious choice, as I had always sat down regularly to just put into words whatever came to mind like a madman with four fingers on my little travel typewriter. just like before, the following was written spontaneously, in pure rage, from the gut, without thinking. translated directly into english using DeepL.

©lyrics and additional rhythm guitar by Hans-Michael Albers, music & vocal performance by suno 5

what kind of contagious madness is this, that spreads so blatantly in our minds like the furiously of a raging ulcer of grotesque insanity, all-consuming hatred, reality-distorting prejudices, and fucking self-importance? who unleashed these bloody killers of common sense, who understands nothing but twists everything, turning the dumbest idiots into smug heroes of an ideocracy that smashes everything and tramples every ounce of reason into the ground of boundless stupidity?

they laugh at facts like it’s a circus show, science gets ghosted while the nonsense grows, critical thoughts in a freefall, truth is in exile, won’t find a home, gonna lose any relevance, reason’s a relic, buried in the dirt, morality's begging on a street of clones, the intellect retreats into ridiculous bubbles of romantic self-deception. the wise are silenced, fools got the mic, they gas up the dark and blow out the light, they sell fake news like a carnival prize, bouncing off the walls like echo chambers, they trade books for memes, wisdom for hurt, gold for glitter, sense for hype. they mock the laws of nature call it a game, spit on the caution ones, rewrite all rules, make the categorical imperative a rumor, a myth to blame for everything that ever went wrong.

is it all too late?

the old white man brings back his god of self-righteousness, who blesses everything and justifies every atrocity, no matter how abominable, his sublime image, the almighty world order of the master race, which can do whatever it wants as long as people kneel in church on sundays and celebrate their bigoted hypocrisy together. and no one questions the lies. they are the sacred idea of all existence, and now they are coming to take you away, to disintegrate your entire worldview, everything you ever believed in, they burn your compass and everything that gives you direction to protect you from despair and self-doubt.

this is not a dream, not a nightmare, not a bad drug, and not a horror movie. this is what is happening right now. it’s real. it’s fucking real. the most real reality you have ever experienced. you are not overestimating it; you are not a pessimist or a doomsayer. you’re not a wimp, you’re not a weirdo, YOU ARE RIGHT! and the only thing you need to finally get it, is that it's not too late to stop what we're becoming

it's not too late to stop what's comin'
now
‘cause anything not now is too late
‘cause now they're comin' for you
especially for you 
it's not too late to stop what we're becoming
it's not too late to stop what's comin'

Too late

Unverified

I was born in 1979 in Greece and i live in my hometown Nafpaktos. I'm an amateur guitar player who plays a little bit of piano, harmonica and bass. I 'm also  trying to sing sometimes. Thanks for listening!!!

Waiting For Nothing

The Fisherman

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