"Croeso, cariad… you’re listening to Hiraeth FM,
Whisperin’ to you on 103.1 on the mythline,
live from under Yr Wyddfa’s elbow,
between the hawthorn roots and the half-remembered tune."

"Tonight we’re broadcastin’ for the sleepless,
the memory-keepers, the soft-hearted stubborn souls.
And if the static starts singin’ your name,
just means someone’s listenin' back."

Tea stain moons on my window ledge,
Moths tappin’ morse from the garden hedge.
Called the radio my kindness machine
She tuned in soft, and I stayed keen.

A bell chimed thrice in the mirror frame,
Said “You’ll know her by the way she says your name.”
Then forgot the sound, remembered the scent,
Burn coffee, dew, fog and an accident.

Ghost in the plug socket flickered a song,
Tiny voice said “You’ve been gone too long.”
nodded once, and cracked, cracked on,
Still warm, still sweet, stilled tuned all wrong.

Turn the dial ‘til the hedges hum,
Where the kitchen clock and the beetles drum.
Late-night laugh or banshee sigh,
Hiraeth FM, always nearby.

Dragons blood on the ether tonight,
Mixin’ daffodil gin with candlelight.
She says the fairies stole her spoon,
replaced it with a heart, ache for the moon.

Taid rings in on the shadow line,
Says “It’s sunny here, all the time.”
this time, time's up, down,
Tic - tok, the clock runs to town.
Back to his workshop, wears a frown.

sheep sung cheaply jazz, a fence hums true,
The crows recite Dylan Thomas too.
You said, “bach, If I’m quiet for long, brew me one strong”.
Always did and it brought your song.

Dial it up, through fog and slate,
Let the nettle ghosts narrate your fate.
From the cwtsh of time and chimney flue,
Hiraeth FM is calling you.

There’s a cupboard of clocks that run on sighs,
And a mirror that only shows lullabies.
Lemonade sock on the bannister rail,
It hums when I sleep, tells me your tale.

A post-it note stuck to my soul:
“Boil the belief, let it grow cold.”
Another one reads, 
You’ll know she’s near,
If the hedgehog starts quoting Shakespeare.”

Aye, maybe love’s a cracked teacup,
Still warm though, if you drink it up.
ghosts, They don’t haunt, they host.
host radio shows, 
like what?
Like this?
Scared yet Bach?
Ofnadwy.

Got a letter addressed in rain,
Signed in crumbs, sealed in grain.
Read it aloud to the garden frogs,
They clapped twice and jumped on the logs.

Clean cut crawling path I walk in speech,
From instant click to the pebble beach.
Worn lullaby in crow tongue,
A hymn half-whistled, never sung.

Now I tune the mist like strings on a lyre,
Broadcastin’ hope from the tumble dryer.
It’s late, but love don’t keep time, see?
It dances on static and cups of tea.

Spin the dial, bach, don’t be shy,
We’re on the air with a lullaby.
For the hearts that hum and never rest,
Hiraeth FM knows you best.

"This is Lady Mabon, signin’ off.
Keep your spoons upside-down, your porch light dim,
And remember,
if you forget why you came,
the wind’ll remind you, bach."

Hiraeth FM

INSOMNIA

98 (N8) prod. Yung Pear

DONT KNOW ME (prod 710 MEAZY)

R3CKLESS

All of my natives (SS)

I DO NOT OWN COPYRIGHTS TO THE INSTRUMENTAL

SPVCE CVDET(freestyle)

$unday

POCKET WATCHIN

In da coupe ft Lxw Skies

INSOMNIA

CHARthemenace(JIP)

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