Fly Me to the Moon

Safe And Sound - Byond Bliss

Call Me Maybe

I release this track back on february but forgot to add it here lol! Enjoy guys! 

Like me Out now via A-records

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Like Me

Soft Like Sin

Plastikkarte, Girokarte , Visakarte, Debitkarte, Paybackkarte, 

Frühling der  Senioren

Plastikkarte

Dernier Souffle

Ever cried into your cereal while pretending to be fine? Good. You're in the right place.

This is Indie Rock with jangle in its bones, Post-Punk with a library card, and melancholy dressed in skinny jeans.
Expect:
– sparkling guitars that sound like heartbreak in a sunbeam
– melodic basslines that know your secrets
– dry, punchy drums that haven’t called their mum in months
– and a baritone voice that’s part poet, part ghost of the guy you once loved in an Oxfam coat.

Born from the dusty corners of 80s UK outsider culture and raised on existential dread and corner shop romance, these songs hum with bittersweet longing and supermarket aisle revelations.

For fans of:
🖤 texting “I’m fine” while listening to music
🖤 dancing alone in the kitchen with unwashed hair
🖤 finding beauty in things that definitely weren’t meant to be beautiful

✨Press play if you’ve ever:
– Thought too much at a bus stop
– Mistaken nostalgia for personality
– Found peace in not giving a damn (but still kinda do)

Lyrics:

Kettle sighs like it knows what I lost
Steam curls up like a ghost in the frost
Sunlight hits where her laughter used to land
Now there’s only dust, and this cloth in my hand

The floorboards moan like they miss her too
Her echo walks in the shape of my shoes
I wipe down the counter, I rinse out the cup
The silence just swells, and never shuts up

Hoovering and smothering
On a sunny but grey Saturday morning
She’s nowhere, she’s everywhere
In the scent of her hair, in the cold kitchen air
I’m cleaning like prayer, like it matters she’s gone
Still asking the silence what went wrong

The mirror still leans where she once smiled
Crooked and bright, like a soft kind of wild
I won’t fix it, I don’t dare—
It’s the last thing she touched, it still feels like her stare

I scrub the tile, and remember her joke
The one with the nun and the disappearing smoke
She'd read me some line from a poet unknown
Then leave like a breeze and not pick up her phone

Hoovering and smothering
On a sunny but grey Saturday morning
She’s a verse in a room, she’s the twist in the light
She’s the laugh that still lingers when I turn off the night
I’m wiping down silence, I’m folding regret
I’m singing to ghosts I can’t forget

If she saw me like this—
Worn sleeves, slow breath
Would she laugh or just whisper:
"You’re still not over it yet?"

And I hum to myself,
as the vacuum moans—
it sounds like a hymn
to the place we called home.

Hoovering and smothering
On a day too bright to cry,
Too empty to move on,
Too quiet to lie.

Hoovering and Smothering (On a Sunny but Grey Saturday Morning)

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

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!

Hoovering and Smothering (On a Sunny but Grey Saturday Morning)

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Terry T Morgan

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