Very nice!👍I love the guitar solo!🎸😊

‘Cherries of Lust’ by The Colibris
Listen to 'P. S.’: http://hyperurl.co/ptjny8

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Lyrics:

The room is filled with sultry jazz
We own something that nobody has
Scattered clothes all over the floor
From this fine pleasure we want more

When my hands lay along your thigh 
Your skin shivers and heaven sighs
The cherries of lust deep in your eyes
Got me dazed and mesmerized 

Amber yellow reverie
We are melting into a melody
As your glance gets lost in mine 
We are drifting out of time

I’m gettin’ drunk as our lips meet
Taste like Sauternes it’s so sweet
I’m cullin’ the roses off your cheeks
Their petals show what my heart seeks

Amber yellow reverie
We are melting into a melody
As your glance gets lost in mine 
We are drifting out of time

From far away the salty breeze
Carries our fate over the seas 
Yet this moment so divine
That we are drifting out of time

-

Mix & master: Balázs Koncz "Lobo"

Cello: Júlia Szőgyényi
Special thanks to Lili Főző for the logo concept design, Csilla Molnár for band photography, István Beke "Bex" for the editing process, and Julien Pool for guitars and amplifiers.

©2021 The Colibris 
#TheColibris #PS #CherriesofLust

Cherries of Lust

🕰 Lip Service Serenade – For when your existential crisis wears eyeliner and watches the evening news.

🎸 Indie Rock × Jangle Pop × Post-Punk
📺 Mood: Bittersweet • Detached • Melodic Jangle • Echoes of Resilience

Ever stared at a politician's lips and thought, “This beat slaps harder than your speech”? Welcome to Lip Service Serenade — a melancholic foot-tapper for anyone who’s emotionally exhausted but still ironically stylish.

Picture this:
You’re sitting on a couch with commitment issues.
A lukewarm tea judges you from the table.
The TV talks nonsense, but those jangle guitars? Pure emotional literacy.

🧠 For fans of:
– Guitars that shimmer like your fading trust in democracy
– Lyrics that sip cold tea with you
– Beats that understand quiet rebellion better than your last date

Whether you’re slowly vanishing into a memory foam pit or just too emotionally fluent to yell at the news, this one’s for you.

🎶 Lip service, baby — sing me away.

Lyrics: 

He’s back on screen in a pixel suit
A halo made of static, a tie too mute
He talks like rain on a plastic sheet
But I just hear the humming of my heartbeat

I sip my tea, it’s gone too cold
The curtains dance like they're growing old
His promises break like Monday plans
But I just watch with folded hands

🎶 His lips move slow, like a vinyl glitch
Sayin’ nothing dressed up as a pitch
I don’t cry, I don’t rage — just fade
To the jangle hum of a TV parade
Lip service, baby — sing me away
In this bittersweet, post-punk ballet 🎶

My couch has grown a memory foam soul
Where I sink like hope through a rigged black hole
The world outside wears campaign masks
But I just count the lightbulb’s cracks

He gestures wide like a silent film
But the meaning’s thin and the vibe is grim
Still, I tap my foot to the distant lie
Like a lullaby dressed in suit and tie

🎶 His lips move slow, like a vinyl glitch
Sayin’ nothing dressed up as a pitch
I don’t shout, I don’t vote — just stay
With the jangle chords in shades of gray
Lip service, baby — fade me away
In this bittersweet, indie cliché 🎶

And maybe tomorrow I’ll care again
Trade silence in for a paper pen
But tonight he’s just a mouth on glass
And I’m a ghost with time to pass

🎶 His lips move slow, like a vinyl glitch
Sayin’ nothing dressed up as a pitch
I won’t dream, I won’t pray — just play
This post-punk hymn in my own delay
Lip service, darling — lead me astray
In this bittersweet, jangle ballet 🎶

Lip Service Serenade

Indie Pop, Dreampop, Hypnagogic Pop, Sophisti-Pop, Jangle Pop, Sunshine Pop, Neo-Psychedelica, Indie Rock, Alternative

goodbye to the moon (blue eyed moon)

A Love Like This

History Repeats Itself


Here we go again
History repeats itself 
Sure I know that 
Her face is more beautiful 
Than her heart 

I bought the house on the hills
I gave her everything I can
Still all she wanted was the money 
All the money for herself 

I look her in the eyes 
I could read her mind 
But I don’t want to know
What I know is true
It’s true 

A woman’s skin
A woman’s back
She moves her hips
She rides it again
I know I will forget 
She knows I will forget 


I bought the house on the hills
I gave her everything I can
Still all she wanted was the money 
All the money for herself 

I look her in the eyes 
I could read her mind 
But I don’t want to know
What I know is true
It’s true 

A woman’s skin
A woman’s back
She moves her hips
She rides it again
I know I will forget 
She knows I will forget

History Repeats Itself

This new indie album is my way of capturing the feeling of autumn nights, quiet rooms, and the strange beauty of being close to someone while the world fades outside. The songs are minimal in words but heavy in mood — sweaters, rain, shadows, and light all becoming part of the story. It’s melancholic but also cosy, a blend of intimacy and distance, memory and desire. These tracks live somewhere between Fleetwood Mac’s mysticism, Beach House synths and the hazy trance of indie and dream-pop.

Bored in the room

Life and its inevitable twists and turns is, quite literally, a mystery for most of us. We try our best to manage the mystery to our advantage and with varying degrees of success. This song explores some of the challenges and ends with sage advice: Live Your Mystery Well. Worth thinking about...just sayin'

Live Your Mystery Well

Man believes he's really lucky to have found a partner whose "kisses are fire" and who makes him feel like he's sinning. Doesn't sound too bad...

Glad I Met You

Verbrijzeling

Baby Blue is not just an album — it’s a descent, a confession, and a fragile return.
Across twelve interconnected songs, Tempest Veins trace the anatomy of addiction: the loneliness that leads to escape, the seduction of the first high, the betrayal of false friends, and the brutal clarity of collapse.

From the haunting atmosphere of “The Hollow Hours” to the desperate pulse of “Glass Streets” and the trembling redemption of “Clean Light,” the record moves through darkness and despair toward a flicker of fragile hope. Every track mirrors a stage of dependency — denial, loss, withdrawal, relapse — told through shifting rhythms, layered guitars, and cinematic sound design.

The final song, “Don’t Cry for Baby Blue,” closes the circle in bittersweet reflection. It’s unclear whether “Baby Blue” is the drug, a lost love, or the version of oneself that never returned. What remains is acceptance — quiet, exhausted, and real.

Musically, Baby Blue bridges the emotional depth of progressive and psychedelic rock with the raw vulnerability of modern art rock. Lyrically, it’s both personal and universal — a portrait of a world where escape is easier than healing, and where every fall still carries the faint possibility of redemption.

Tempest Veins deliver a record that burns, bleeds, and breathes — an unflinching journey through the beautiful, terrible truth of being human.

Comimg Soon

Don`t Cry for Baby Blue

Tablet VI:III — “Regnum Fragilis” A diadem of clarity and pain rests upon mortal thought. Knowledge pierces peace; vision consumes sleep. Those who wear it see eternity and weep.

History Repeats Itself

Danny Fisher

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