We sleepwalk into dreams that turn into nightmares as we wake

Deep Fake

“Back in Time on a Razor Cut Line” is a surreal plunge into the chaos of a cocaine trip — where time fractures, memories loop, and reality drifts between holy shrines, safehouses, and neon illusions. Blending raw confession with dreamlike fantasy, it captures the edge between escape and reckoning, fading in and out like the sting of the line itself.

Back in Time on a Razor cut line

Dead To Me

Halloween

Travelling musician has spent years on the road playing bars to "sodden ears that could not hear." He now misses his sweetie, so he's driving home to get "back in baby's arms..." He decided to take a pretty violinist home with him in the backseat. Not sure what "baby" will think about that...  

Back In Baby's Arms

I lay them down beneath the moss,
where earth remembers every loss.
The night bends close to hear me hum,
a song of what I’ve overcome.
The wolves all know my name by now,
they circle soft, they watch, they bow.
For I have nursed both flesh and flame,
and neither burns me now the same.

Do not tell me to cover my fire,
I was born of smoke and choir.
My breast is bare, my spirit free,
I am mother, huntress, prophecy.
They said, “Think of the children,” — I do.
That’s why I break the world in two.

Тише, сердце моё.
Tishe, syertseh mayo.
(Hush now, my heart.)

They whisper like the wind through ash,
“She was gentler once, before the crash.”
They preach of virtue, modest grace,
while fear still trembles in their face.
But I will not bend nor hide my flame,
this wild devotion has no shame.
For every scar upon my skin
was earned by keeping life within.

Мир спит, а я пою.
Meer speet, a ya payu.
(The world sleeps, but I sing.)

Sleep, my children, sleep in peace,
I’ve bartered heaven for your release.
No angel’s gate will shut me out,
my prayers are blood, my vows are shout.
I’ll claw at heaven’s marble door,
until your names are safe once more.
The chains are broken, the curse undone,
you are my dawn, my risen sun.

From my ruin I was born again,
not sinner, not saint, but sovereign flame.
The milk and the blood, they both still flow,
one to nurture, one to know.
They called me shame, they called me wild,
but holiness wears the face of a child.
My hands are scarred, my back is strong —
I’ve laboured love into sacred song.

Do not tell me to silence my fire,
my love is both wound and choir.
My breast is bare, my spirit free,
I am mother, martyr, prophecy.
Unseen toil, burdens divine,
my children’s souls are the altar’s sign.
I burn, I breathe, I kneel, I rise —
a woman crowned in lullabies.

Тише, сердце моё…
(Hush now, my heart…)
Мир спит, а я пою…
(The world sleeps, but I sing…)

Mother of Flame

Lyrics:

[Verse]
Well I feel like I'm livin' on the outside
I never even had a chance
'Cause it's hard when your whole world is burnin' down
And you ain't even tried to light a match

[Chorus]
Oh I guess it's easy when you're lookin' at the other side
Yeah I guess it doesn't matter if you try
If you try
Yeah it doesn't really matter
If you try

[Verse 2]
All my friends say
"You're better off without her
And that's just how the story goes"
Well if that's true
Why's it hard to move on?
If I was wrong
Why am I the one alone?

[Chorus]
Oh I guess it's easy when you're lookin' at the other side
Yeah I guess it doesn't matter if you try
If you try
Yeah it doesn't really matter
If you try
[Bridge]
And they say
"That's just the way it goes
Yeah it's all out of your control
There's no need to go and sell your soul"
And I say
"Leave me alone"
I said
"Leave me alone"


Leave Me Alone

Lyrics:

Sometimes I stare into the mirror for too long...
The tired eyes, the scars of regret, the face worn down by time..
I ask myself...
Does the image of God still remain in this reflection...
Sin, Fear, and Pride twist the contours of my soul...
I can hardly believe that divinity ever touched this dust...

Yet somewhere deep within...
A still voice whispers...
You were made in My image...
Imago Dei... 
The ancient truth that humanity was breathed out by Love itself...
That we are not random matter but reflections of the divine heart...
If God is love...
Then every act of mercy, every tear forgiven...
Is a return to the origin of who I am...

But I lose that image so easily...
When anger triumphs over patience...
When I choose resentment instead of compassion...
The mirror fogs, and the light fades...
And yet, in the dimness, I see Him...
the One who is the image of the invisible God...
Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...
Who walked among us to restore the glory we forgot...

Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...
Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...

Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...
Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...

Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...
Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...
Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...

He did not come wrapped in power but in humility...
Though He was in the form of God...
He did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped...
But emptied Himself...
In His surrender, I glimpse the face of the Father...
Through the cross...
The shattered mirror of humanity begins to mend...

Imago Dei...
It is not perfection I possess...
But a presence I reflect...
It is not my goodness...
But God’s unrelenting love that still echoes within me...
Even when I forget who I am...
He remembers the breath He placed in me...

To live in His image is not merely to exist...
But to love, to create, to forgive...
To choose truth over deceit, hope over despair...
Is to let the divine likeness breathe again through my humanity...
Be transformed by the renewal of your mind...
This is not a command of discipline alone...
But a call to return... 
To remember whose reflection we are...

That is the mystery of Imago Dei...
To be human is to bear the reflection of divine love...
to be redeemed is to shine again with the glory once lost...
And this journey...
Through weakness, repentance, and grace...
Is the slow, beautiful return...
To the image of the One who first said...
Let us make man in our image...

Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...
Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...
Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...

Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...
Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...
Jesus Christ, the perfect Imago Dei...

Imago Dei

“My Senses” is a collection of eight slow jazz mornings —
music for stillness, warmth, and the quiet poetry of everyday life.

Each track is a small world painted in piano, cello, and drums:
a city breathing at dawn, sleepy cats curled on a chair,
and the timeless love between a mother and her son.

Recorded slowly, without haste, this album captures
the delicate rhythm of living — where sound becomes scent,
and silence becomes light.

Produced under Torgio Records · Composed and performed by Giorgi

My Senses

I love my 85-year-old mother

In the hush after the storm, the forest begins to breathe again.
Northern Soul: November Air is a collection of songs about that stillness — when the air clears, the work is done, and mercy feels like wind through pine.
Written and produced in the cinematic folk-soul language of THOCE, these tracks blend acoustic guitar, felt piano, brass, nyckelharpa, and strings into warm, human stories of endurance and grace.
Each song is a reflection of quiet strength: the sound of light returning to cold air, of hearts mending in their own time.
No grandeur, no noise — just the pulse of the North rediscovering its soul.
Listen slowly.
Breathe.
November air is enough.

The Sunset Song

You’ll Never See Me Break

Old Poet turned singer songwriter - Songs from my heart and mind for your hearts and minds - United we sing ......Really mine really yours !

Back in Time on a Razor cut line

Thoughts and Ones