Fly Me to the Moon

Safe And Sound - Byond Bliss

Call Me Maybe

Plastikkarte, Girokarte , Visakarte, Debitkarte, Paybackkarte, 

Frühling der  Senioren

Plastikkarte

(Ahoj, Labe...)
(Should I approach you in Czech language?)
(First time I see you.)
(Read and heard a lot about you.)
How many languages do you speak?
How many names have kissed your tide?
You look so calm…
Would you tell me a story?
You’ve seen wars and morning joggers,
Power plants and pensioners with dogs.
They sniff the grass near your sighing shore —
You flow, and yet, you store.

I stood and asked, you stayed in motion,
A mirror made of ancient ocean.
And still I hoped you’d turn your face —
A river’s love, a river’s grace...

🎵 Elbe, do you remember me?
I was just a thought beside your stream.
You flow, you glow, no need to try —
But still you caught my drifting eye.
Elbe, oh Labe, your silence speaks,
A thousand hearts in seven weeks.
You never stopped, you never stayed —
But I was seen. I felt, I prayed. 🎵

During weekdays, not that crowded...
Just you, and ghosts of conversations past.
Bridges — people crossing lives,
Unaware they walk through time.
And in the evening?
Couples wrapped in sunset skin.
Hugging. Laughing. Kissing.
Do you care, or do you just flow past it all?
Maybe you envy. Maybe you don’t.
Maybe you only want to reach the sea.
The North calls you —
Cold. Final. Salty.
Is that love? Or duty?

You carry secrets no one sees,
Yet whisper none to winds or trees.
And still I ask — foolish, slow —
Is it pain, or just your flow?
[Refrain – sung again, intensified beat]
🎵 Elbe, do you remember me?
The girl who spoke to you so free?
You didn’t stop, you didn’t turn —
But something in me starts to burn.
Elbe, oh Labe, proud and wide,
You took a piece I couldn’t hide.
You never cried, you never fought —
But somehow, somehow — you were caught. 🎵

Alright… I won’t bother you more with questions.
I know you just want to flow.
To live your life. To reach your sea.
That’s your destiny. Your only plan.
But maybe…
Just maybe, you’ll remember me.
Someday.
Some way.
I’ll never forget you.

🎵 Elbe, oh Labe, farewell flow,
You know things I’ll never know.
I was just a voice on your quiet shore…
But you made me feel. You made me more. 🎵

Elbe (Deep House Version)

Honest Man

No Friends at the Party

🍕 “SOLO PER CLIENTI” — the unofficial Italian summer anthem nobody asked for… but everybody needs. 🇮🇹🚗☀️

Imagine this: a tiny German car, endless winding coastal roads, the smell of fresh lasagna in the summer air… and zero parking. Every single sign screams “SOLO PER CLIENTI” — and our poor heroine? She just wants pizza, mamma mia! 🍝

This French House groove blends soulful male vocals (with a gloriously strong Italian accent), filtered disco synths, deep sidechained basslines, and sun-kissed beats into the ultimate late-afternoon soundtrack. It's smooth, it’s groovy, and it comes with a hint of tiramisu-fueled desperation.

If you’ve ever been hangry on holiday, trapped between Aperol dreams and parking nightmares, this one’s for you. Close your eyes, turn up the volume, and drive straight into Mediterranean chaos.

Warning: This track may cause
🍕 Sudden pizza cravings
🥂 Aperol spritz nostalgia
🚗 Spontaneous shouts of “SOLO PER CLIENTI!”

Perfect for:
🌴 Golden-hour beach drives
🍹 Late-summer balcony parties
🎧 Dancing barefoot with pasta in hand
🇮🇹 Pretending you’re Italian even if you’re not

Lyrics:

She drives a tiny car from Germany,
Through winding roads to the deep blue sea,
Dolce vita dreams, sunglasses on,
But her stomach's empty, mamma mia, she’s done!

Every little street, every little sign,
Says “solo per clienti” — babe, she’s losin’ time!
Pizza in her mind, but no place to stay,
O sole mio, take my hunger away!

Solo per clienti!
No, no, no parcheggio niente!
Solo per clienti!
Pizza, pasta… where’s the entry?
Solo per clienti!
My amore, it’s so tormenti,
Solo per clienti!
O mamma mia… help me, senti! 

She sees a little trattoria by the square,
Smells the fresh lasagna in the summer air,
She parks the car, but a man starts to scream:
“Signorinaaa! This is not what it seems!”

"Bellissima, capisci, non si può…
This parking here — non per te!"
And she sighs, “Okay, okay…
I just want pizza… por favoreee!”

Solo per clienti!
No, no, no parcheggio niente!
Solo per clienti!
Tiramisu is my tormenti!
Solo per clienti!
Maccheroni… sentimenti,
Solo per clienti!
O mamma mia… hungry belly! 

Drive, drive, drive…
Past the beach and wine,
One day, somehow…
She’ll find that sign:
“Benvenuti… clienti tutti!”

Solo Per Clienti (French House Version)

I dont wanna be ur girlfriend

Ever wondered what happens when indie rock panic meets post-punk denial and jangle-pop optimism?

Well… this track answers it:

👉 A person literally baking a cake during a fire alarm.

The whole world outside is going full “Doom & Gloom: Live Edition” —
sirens crying, neighbours screaming, smoke creeping under the door —
and our hero is standing there like:

“Yeah yeah, apocalypse, whatever — the crust needs two more minutes.”

This song is basically the spiritual successor of:

“This is fine.”

“I’ll panic later, I’m busy.”

“If the roof falls, at least the frosting slaps.”

It’s the anthem for anyone who has ever ignored a real problem
because something in the oven was at a critical emotional moment.

Expect:
🥁 jangle guitars that sound like your smoke detector having an existential crisis
🎸 indie-rock riffs that slap harder than the collapsing ceiling
🔥 post-punk energy that whispers: “buddy… you’re not okay, but the cake is”
🍰 and a level of chaotic calmness that should not legally be allowed

If the world ever burns again (give it 48 hours),
blast this track, grab a whisk,
and remember:

WORRY NEVER BAKED A THING.

Lyrics:

While the world was burning,
I was checking the oven light.
Everybody ran outside,
I just wanted the crust right.
Sirens screaming in the streets,
and I'm measuring flour like it’s peace.
Smoke is leaking under every door,
but hey — the batter needs a little more.

Maybe I should worry,
but worry never baked a thing.
Maybe I should hurry,
but hurry never made it sing.

So I’m baking a cake in a fire alarm,
with the kitchen shaking like it means me harm.
All the neighbours shout that I should escape,
but the timer’s ticking — sorry, no break.
If the world goes down, I’ll still stay calm,
mixing sugar in a natural charm.
Yeah, the roof might drop, but the taste’s divine —
let the flames go crazy, the cake’s still mine.

The smoke turned into dancing ghosts,
cheering for the butter I added most.
Someone knocked and yelled: “Get out!”
But the batter rose — so I stayed devout.
There’s chaos on the news tonight,
but I’m beating eggs like I’m ready to fight.
Ash is falling like confetti rain,
and I’m greasing the pan to stay sane.

Maybe it looks foolish,
but foolish keeps me whole.
If life’s a burning building,
I’ll frost it with control.

So I’m baking a cake in a fire alarm,
with the kitchen shaking like it means me harm.
All the neighbours shout that I should escape,
but the timer’s ticking — sorry, no break.
If the world goes down, I’ll still stay calm,
mixing sugar in a natural charm.
Yeah, the roof might fall, but the taste’s divine —
let the flames go crazy, the cake’s still mine.

Let the ashes fall, let the headlines scream —
I’ll stir the chaos into whipped-cream dreams.
If everything crumbles and nothing survives,
I’ll still bake sweetness into bitter lives.

So I’m baking a cake in a fire alarm,
with the world collapsing like it means me harm.
Everyone’s running but I stay in place —
there’s magic rising in this metal case.
If the night goes dark, I’ll still stay warm —
in a kitchen storm, in a sugar-storm.
Yeah, the city can crumble, the sirens can whine —
I’ll be here baking —
the cake is mine.

Baking a Cake in a Fire Alarm

VIVOS 25

La calma es solo una pausa entre dos tormentas LIVE

Hi there — welcome to my corner of the web.

I’m here for one simple reason: to share my music with you.
Take a listen, explore, and I hope something here resonates with you. Enjoy the vibe!

Elbe (Deep House Version)

Unbekannter Künstler

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