Music : Janne Hennie & Little Man
Lyrics & vocals : Janne Hennie

Deep inside me I have a secret place
No one knows about it
You can't see it on my face
There I can hide what I don't won't you to see
Love and anger
The truth about me..

Chorus:
In my little Chamber, my secrets are safe
And maybe one day I will take you to that place
Every tear I never showed
The words I never said
Are hidden in my chamber
My true self is there

All the love I never got to share
The pain and sorrow
It's all hidden there
All the frustration I had to put away
The honest words I couldn't say..

Chorus

Chorus

Deep inside me I have a secret place
No one knows about it
You can't see it on my face
There I can hide what I don't want you to see
Love and anger
The truth about me...

Chorus

Every tear I never showed
The words I never said
Are hidden in my chamber
My true self is there...

My Little Chamber

Years ago, my brothers and I had spent several weeks getting my dad's house ready to sell after he had passed. I was in the realtor's office ready to sign the paper work when the prospective buyers asked why I wasn't buying the house I grew up in.  I said (not thinking) "Too many ghosts".  The realtor immediately jumped in and said, "he means memories" to which I smiled confirming the needed clarification:)  It does beg the question however, how many "ghosts" haunt our lives; bad decisions, fractured relationships, things we did or failed to do.  I have found hope and forgiveness in the Christian faith, others have found healing in the passing of time, others still carry a heavy burden of what could have been or should have been.  Peter explores the theme in poignant verse to Seagull's quixotic soundtrack.  I am honored to  contribute a few colors to the tapestry;)
Acoustic guitars left & right; David Dunham; @david-dunhamuser589535203
Superb Poetry/Lyrics, Narration; Peter the Poet; soundcloud.com/user-264930040/tracks
Master of the music, lead guitar solo, mix & production;  Seagull @farout-music-studio
Wonderful voice: Clara Sorace
Track art: Bing images
Ghost of a Sense:

Yes, I know you.
I can feel your presence.
I can touch you, smell you.
I see you not by sight of eye
And yet I ken that you are I
That vespered wraith that writhes within
To test my faith, try my sin
Push the bounds to cause offence
A moral, soul thing, ghost of a sense recalls myself, so well defined
Entrenched, walls behind, built so sound of dust that crowned the pity, falling soft amiss,
Deep inside the tears I cry as here I find my self-abyss.

Whispers bringing shadows, filled of secrets therein held,
Memories, morose, piece me still, to wear in time, my wasted face.
And now reside, cast aside, to forge and ever meld,
Of haunting, ringing echoes, that will alone their chime erased.

Ah! But you won't twist me, nor bind me fast, to the sandy doctrines of the misty past,
With its beards and staffs and crinkled testaments.
My future's sprinkled here present with your crass irrelevance and matters not that sat right there,
The blackest chasm in my simpling world so spare,
Where space and time have overspilled the leaking psyche of a crippled mind,
That barely copes, unfulfilled, a crooked, limpid moral health of broken shrines
That hopes to find ....
.......some worthwhile inner self.

Ghost of a Sence (Seagull, Peter, David)

Alternate version of a recent idea ("In The Forest Fair"):

Love was a bending flower
At the fading hour
A twilight song
Sun-starved for too long

Love was resolute
Digging a deeper root
A patient scheme
A bottomless stream
A paradox supreme

And where are we tonight?
Shall we shine some light?
Fragile yes, but strong
Our twilight song

And still we feel the fire
Down to the wire
This crazy flame
It warms our frame
Lights our way
Consumes us without shame

Love was a bending flower
At the fading hour
Fragile yes, but strong
That's our song
Our twilight song
Twilight song

Image by Christina Victoria Craft (Unsplash)

Our Twilight Song

Yea I'm stressed out 
don't wanna talk about it
cause I doubt 
you wouldn't give a f*ck about it
self doubt 
can't get myself up out of this
the hole that I put myself in
dug it out
put myself in it
don't know how it turned out 
like this 
all I know is I want out
I've had it 
I'm stressed out 
Stressed ooooOoOoout

Stressed out 
I got nothing left 
checked out
so much I regret 
feeling left out 
like I'm second best
don't know how to forgive 
and I can't forget 
yea my life's a mess 
I'm depressed 
and I'm 
stressed out

Yea I'm 
stressed out 
wish I 
could forget about 
what has me
stressed out
but I cant 
live without 
being 
stressed out

Stressed out

Autumn Breath

Smólaigh  ( Gesindel )

'shit at and hit'
Thanks to grandma Billie for the phrase. A wonderful woman. I've yet to hear of this phrase existing prior, nor of it from anyone else since.
Scotty: Two yamaha storia II takes through a fender mustang III amp with differing fx, channeled accordingly, maybe, hopefully, and a handful of vocal takes layered. 

I can't get up today.
I've got no words to say.
Everything always replays,
and causes me dismay. 

I feel like I've been shot at and missed, and shit at and fucking hit. 

If there is a god,
why the fuck would they
make us in the mould
to have to feel this way?
Everyday.

shit at and hit

have to fast again because quit nicotine candy caused me to eat toooooo much
made with honey (acoustic guitar)

a little honey (acoustic guitar) even tho i am fasting again

Hey… Thanks for dropping by. As a young boy, around sixty years ago, I used to like to listen to old people as they rambled on with stories about their lives. I really enjoyed those stories. I am an old man now, and I tend to ramble on, as well. This song is about that…. as I wake up to a chilly autumn morning. I have been busy ‘buttoning things up’ for winter. Collecting seeds, preparing garden beds, raking leaves, moving stuff inside, winterizing my home, getting winter gear ready, and other such sundry tasks, some of which I had forgotten about, like filling a tub with gardening soil and compost for planting seeds next spring. So I put the tub right by my front door. Ha. I have mixed feelings about heading into another long mountain winter. Throw old age into the mix and boy, am I having fun. I have also been sitting outside quietly, as flocks of birds fly by. Some flocks temporarily stop here to rest and feed, before winging off. It is fascinating to watch the dynamics of the flocks and how different kinds of birds interact. There are high flying geese, cranes and ducks overhead as well. All those birds are vocal, and when I am outside working, I tend to whistle along with them. They don’t seem to mind. The relative harmonious balance of it all is so refreshing to watch. Although a robin, or two, in the mountain ash always seems to be chasing other robins away from the berry laden tree. There are more berries in that tree than all those robins could ever eat, and I watch as the chased away robins sneak back into the tree. Some older birds die here in the yard, as they are no longer up for the long migration ahead. Sad to see. I often find one or two of them, dead each year, huddled peacefully in the deep grass, or hidden elsewhere. It has also snowed several times here in October… Hope you’re doing well. Mark  

Autumnal Ramblings Of An Old Man

This was created and written by: 
J J Samuel
The production and music was done by: 
J J Samuel

#Cosmic #ContemporyPiano #Electronic #ProgressiveHouse #Ragtime #Carnival #Energetic #FestivalReady

Spiralmagic is an instrumental cosmic carnival! Ragtime’s lively piano meets progressive house’s pulsing bass, supersaws, pads, and drums in C major.
It’s a  festival banger with time-warping energy. Ready for the galactic dancefloor! 🚀🎹💫

SpiralMagiC [Instrumental]

ontrabbasso

E quando prendo il mio contrabbasso 
E come se abbracciassi un amore
Ogni nota mi vibra forte il cuore
E con la musica mi sento connesso 

Sparisce il mondo intorno a me
Come se calasse una bolla a chiudermi
E suono suono suono
La melodia é la mia amante

Giri di basso in questo scantinato 
Come non mai mi sento fortunato 
Vibrazioni dolci e forti
Vibrazioni di chi è innamorato
Della musica

Le mie dita danzano sulle corde  
Ogni pizzico è un battito che esplode  
Il contrabbasso canta racconta storie  
Di notti sogni e vecchie glorie  

Il ritmo mi prende non mi lascia andare  
Come un mare che mi vuole cullare  
E suono suono suono  
La mia anima si perde nel suono  

Giri di basso in questo scantinato  
Come non mai mi sento fortunato
Vibrazioni dolci e forti  
Vibrazioni di chi è innamorato  
Della musica  

La luce fioca il fumo nell’aria  
Ma il contrabbasso è la mia chiara via  
Ogni nota un passo nel mio viaggio  
La musica è il mio eterno coraggio  
  
E quando il suono si spegne nel silenzio  
Resta il calore di questo momento intenso  
Il contrabbasso riposa al mio fianco  
Ma il suo battito vive non è stanco  
Della musica

Contrabbasso

Here you will find little acoustic pop songs; melancholy, dreamy-folk things. Sometimes some jangly, fuzzy rock tunes or ambient pieces as well. Work-in-progress demos to finished tracks, informal playlists to official album releases. Enjoy.

Our Twilight Song

Tom Hanson

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