Name: My Best Friend by Tim Bruneau
Duration: 5 min 2 s
Description: This is a song about love and finding my one true love. But it's also about loss. I lost my true love, and this song is my memory of the love I had that I lost.

Beautiful ballad, I like the keyboard ideas.

Interesting and nicely mellow tune. I like lyrics and atmosphere. Quite an ambient work here.

Mecatan, The Mango Road

Life could be a dream.
A little mardi gras.
A party in the street.
Thank god its summer time.
Though the beers flowing.
There's no way the people know what's going down.

Not that you need one.
But it's an excuse to drink.
Though I drink every day.
Here's to these summer days.
The dog star in the Sky, has the people asking why they're going insane. 

Over the hills and through the deep dark trees.
Round every corner that you know.
Theres no escaping possibility.
I need to go. 
Where no one goes.
Life could be a dream 
But not a mardi gras
It's just too much for me.
It's where the faces are.
People are annoying and the confidence is boring by the way.

An excuse to meet.
Or the other way.
Keeps you on your feet.
But gives your time away. 
A room all of your own and the time you spent alone, is what we crave. 

Over the hills and through the deep dark trees.
Round every corner that you know.
Theres no escaping possibility.
I need to go. 
Where no one goes.




A Little Mardi Gras

FROM GOD
Felt so damn sure
Never to be one of them
Yet here I am
Chasing hights when I can

Cocaine
Cocaine
Mountains of cocaine
Oh God, cocaine

I want back up there
A little closer to the sky
Where I Feel the magic
As I get that high

With razor sharp mind
Im the man I want to be
My worries are gone
Theres no fear left in me

Cocaine
Cocaine
Mountains of cocaine
Oh God, cocaine

Cocaine
Cocaine
No, not that filthy blow
Cocaine from God


.
Wondering how habbits are obtained so easily, yet so hard to kick

From having my place; when lunching at work, dining at home, or side of my double bed; theres always this spot i prefer ower others

Then of course theres coffee and cigarettes, thats really beyond me how could ever turn into habbits. Tasted like poison first times, disturbed my digestive system, knowingly gave rotten breath and ugly teeth. Yet I turned them into habbits pretty fast, and now theres no morning without.

I was thinking about this, and wondered if I could squeeze out a healthy habbit if keeping at it for a while, even if I didnt like it at first.

I decided to try mountain hiking, which I concidered an awful activity. So much so, that I almost feared it.

Long story short: 
Afer a week or so i had stopped battling myself to get going.

After maybe a month, I did not have to motivate myself for this anymore.

The unexpected event of endorfines being released from my brains reward system at every top, resonated rather well with the junkie still hiding somewhere in me, and secured a smile on my face for rest of the day, and probably aso motivated me for next trip

The true reward is gained over time though:
A domino effect of boosts that enhance eachother.
Selfasteem, sharper mind, general wellbeing,
social skills and almost effortlessly dealing with stuff are just a few of the lifted traits from the top of my head

Theres magic in the mountains, I dont know how else to put it.
No man will ever create a drug that can compare to what is found on every top. 
And;
It will always be free
It wil always be available,
and it will always be without any bad side effects.
Im not kidding
Theres only good stuff with this shit,
and I really want as many as possible to discover this

If struggeling with some nasty habbits, or just in need of a better life
You know..
Do the mountains

Cocaine
Cocaine
Mountains of cocaine
Cocaine from God

Released by:
Odd Roar Vindstad

From God.

From God

Mythical Machines

MYTHICAL MACHINES

Bluebells

oh fearful symmetry 
sorry you no longer frighten me
strike the hammer
yank your chain
I know which one of us
has half a brain 

you made me 
now you’re just the venue
while I’m alive
I will contain you...

and it’s freeing, plenty freeing
now let me sing this into being:

everything’s a bucket
in the 5th dimension
ain’t you glad we’re seeing only four?

babe, when the going gets tough and
you feel miffed again shun
anyone who dishes out a cure

that’s just a bucket in the 5th dimension
(forget it, forget it, forget it!)
no-one’s ever needed more than four

red wheelbarrow
red wheelbarrow
so much of us depends upon 
rode on your angular indifference
until our riding days were done

some of us have you 
glazed in purpose 
some catch a sleigh to memory 
the fields don’t lie 
they won’t lie fallow
not after you 
not after me

now let me sing how everything
is just a bucket in the 5th dimension
ain’t you glad we’re seeing only four?

babe when the going gets rough 
and you’ve been stiffed again shun
anyone who offers you a cure, there’s no cure!

just a bucket in the 5th dimension
(forget it, might as well forget it!)
it’s better to have lived in only four
we’ll make do with four

Support Gom

The 5th Dimension

Translation above

Sur un texte de Christian Portet www.facebook.com/christian.portetmapage
Voix de Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel www.facebook.com/jeanpaul.gaidodaniel
Photo montage du Manneken Pis et de la statue de Jacques Brel par Tom Frantzen, à Bruxelles

GRAND JACQUES
Grand Jacques, enfant chéri des mers
Qui sent si bon la mort et la bière,
Ne me quitte pas avant mon dernier repas
À Amsterdam ou à Bruxelles. Je ne sais pas...

On n'oublie rien du plat pays de tes bourgeois :
Isabelle, Clara, Marieke avec Mathilde et La Fanette
Arrivent en passant par Vesoul sur la place des rois
Où les soirs d'été sont frais pour l'éclusier dans la tempête !

Les paumés d'un petit matin, creusés au froid d'une Belgique chienne, Refermeront les fenêtres sur les ivrognes solitaires aux prières païennes. Bergers amidonnés d'un vieux port en partance pour filles et chiens, Capitaines ou singes, bigotes irréfléchies comme biches de rien.

Ces gens-là, rassasiés de tango funèbre, ne pensent qu'au suivant,
Et qui pour des bonbons, en parlotant, finiront par oublier le fier moribond En sachant déjà pourtant que vieux, ils ne seront ni beaux, ni cons,
Et qu'un Don Quichotte à jeun pour un jour fera revenir leur maman.

Tu as quitté les risques du métier pour une aventure, aventure. Anarchiste chez Bonnot comme accordéon d'une valse à mille temps Pour une tendresse imaginée où les toros se fracassent contre les murs, Lucifer trop fragile sur ton cheval trop vrai pour faire pleurer les vivants !

Grand Jacques, enfant chéri des mers, Avec tes deux pianos et ton accordéon Quand tu rechantes ta chanson,
Tu sens si bon la mort et la bière...
La la la Grand Jacques La la la ...
Texte de Christian Portet
Musique de Myckaël Marcovic, 05/12/2023

With text by Christian Portet www.facebook.com/christian.portetmapage
Voices by Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel www.facebook.com/jeanpaul.gaidodaniel
Photo montage of Manneken Pis and Jacques Brel statue by Tom Frantzen, Brussels

GRAND JACQUES
Grand Jacques, beloved child of the seas
Who smells so good of death and beer,
Don't leave me until my last meal
In Amsterdam or Brussels. Je ne sais pas...

We don't forget anything from the flat country of your bourgeois :
Isabelle, Clara, Marieke with Mathilde and La Fanette
Arrive via Vesoul on the Place des rois
Where summer evenings are cool for the lock-keeper in the storm!

The lost of an early morning, dug in the cold of a dogged Belgium, Will close the windows on the solitary drunkards with pagan prayers. Starched shepherds of an old port on their way to girls and dogs, Captains or monkeys, thoughtless bigots like deer of nothing.

These people, full of funeral tango, only think of the next,
And who, for the sake of candy, end up forgetting the proud moribund Knowing already that old, they'll be neither handsome nor stupid,
And that a sober Don Quixote for a day will bring back their mother.
You left the risks of the profession for an adventure, adventure. Anarchist at Bonnot's as accordion in a thousand-beat waltz For an imagined tenderness where toros smash against walls, Lucifer too fragile on your horse too true to make the living weep!

Grand Jacques, cherished child of the seas, 
With your two pianos and your accordion
When you sing your song again,
You smell so good of death and beer...
La la la Grand Jacques La la la la ...

Text by Christian Portet
Music by Myckaël Marcovic, 05/12/2023

Grand Jacques (Christian Portet / Myckaël Marcovic feat. Jean-Paul Gaido-Daniel)

New song inspired by the simplicity of human contact. Hope you enjoy. Please comment and share

The Devils Detail

EMBRACE

This is a song about love and finding my one true love. But it's also about loss. I lost my true love, and this song is my memory of the love I had that I lost.

My Best Friend

Surf And Sun (resurrected)

This is another melodic rock track, recorded with ableton using a Marshall 8100 and the GTR 5 plugin, which I can highly recommend.


Earth Patriot - In Vain

I bled my heart out
while I was with you
all the things that I missed out
will never come true

all the love that I spend to you
went down the drain
I turned to my friends
being left out in the rain

love comes - love goes
it`s always the same
all the things that we build up
all done in vain

you cried your heart out
while you were with me
all the things that you planned out
will never come true

all the love that you spend
went down the drain
you turned to your friends
being left out in the rain

love comes - love goes
it`s always the same
all the things that we build up
all done in vain

dealing out hands / counting out time

in vain

In Vain

From Louisville, Kentucky.  Don’t know what I’m doing. I pull all of this out of my ass. It’s about my screwed up life. My music is about making the best of things. I do it all on my own. Trying to share my talent for music. I’m just a dude. 

Follow Tim on Twitter.

https://twitter.com/bruneau_timothy?t=zUCtPkENNgXJgDxgW1u0zA&s=09

My Best Friend

Tim Bruneau

Recent comments

Sean Ferree

Ladat

ℍ𝔸ℤ.

N.o.b.S.

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