Fly Me to the Moon

Safe And Sound - Byond Bliss

Call Me Maybe

Hey bro, let it boil!
She's your sis — don't you spoil!
Feel the heat, lose control,
But hands off, that's the goal!
Hey bro, let it boil!
Dreams are loud, but you're on parole!
She's your sis — don't you spoil!
Ride the night train, lose your soul! 🎶

Rolling fast through the velvet night,
City lights fading out of sight,
She’s laughing, stretching, brushing hair,
Pulls her shirt, tosses it through the air,
A glimpse of silk, a kiss of skin,
I'm locked outside, can't dive in.
Her bra hits the floor — oh Lord, I'm fried,
But I'm just the bro, and my hands are tied.

She said it once, she said it twice,
“Don't be dumb, don't roll the dice,
You're my brother, that's the law —
Admire, adore, but that's as far as you go!”

Hey bro, let it boil!
She's your sis — don't you spoil!
Feel the heat, lose control,
But hands off, that's the goal!
Hey bro, let it boil!
Dreams are loud, but you're on parole!
She's your sis — don't you spoil!
Ride the night train, lose your soul! 🎶

The moon is drunk, the stars are wild,
She dances barefoot, free and styled,
A queen of night, a siren's call,
And I'm just a brother, that's all.
Her perfume wraps around my mind,
Every move feels like a crime,
But I sit still, swallow the flame,
She made the rules — it's just a game.

She said it clear, she said it loud,
"No stupid moves, or you'll be out!
Brozone strong, keep your heart in a cage,
Admire the show, but don't take the stage!"

Hey bro, let it boil!
She's your sis — don't you spoil!
Feel the heat, lose control,
But hands off, that's the goal!
Hey bro, let it boil!
Dreams are loud, but you're on parole!
She's your sis — don't you spoil!
Ride the night train, lose your soul! 🎶

Let It Boil

Plastikkarte, Girokarte , Visakarte, Debitkarte, Paybackkarte, 

Frühling der  Senioren

Plastikkarte

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!

Let It Boil

Unbekannter Künstler

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