Starlit Letters

Suddenly Makes Sense

Earth Angel

You left your hoodie in my Civic again
Still smells like chlorine and unsaid things
I watched the moths attack my porch light
And thought, yeah, that’s probably love

Your voicemail's just a sigh and two seconds of wind
I saved it anyway

I built a shrine from Busch Light cans and dead cassette tape
Tuned my heart to open D and watched it snap
You always said I cared like a forgotten state
So I drew your name in dust on the welcome mat

There’s an opossum in the gutter again
He’s got your stare and my old shoes
I tried to name him something tragic
But he just hissed and chewed through the past

Every love song sounds like dial-up now
Just waiting for it to connect

I built a drum from all our shared anxieties
Kicked it gently ‘til my ankle cracked
You told me once that grief’s a Midwestern breeze
Soft, humid, and impossible to track

I carved our breakup date into a pizza box
Then used it as a sled on your old hill
Your dad saw me, said, “she’s not coming back, bud”
I just nodded and slid straight into the creek

All my flannel shirts are starting to molt
I guess I am too

I wrote our names in ketchup on a paper plate
Left it out for raccoons and abstract fate
You were always better at abstract things
Like feelings, and taxes, and how not to wait

And if I call you from the Kwik Trip payphone
Don’t pick up — just let it ring
I’ll leave a whisper in the static
Something small. Something Midwest. Something with wings.

The corn is listening, anyway
And so’s your cat, probably

I stacked old zines like bricks around my grief
Lit 'em up with a Bic and some unsent tweets
You always knew how to say things sweet and bleak
I just mumble in 3/4 time and leave


We Only Cuddle During Tornado Warnings

a cowboy's song about returning home to his lost love.

Dust on the Saddle

"Nothing Sets Me Alight" speaks of a season that burns all around, yet leaves the heart untouched.
The heat is everywhere — in the streets, in the air — but no spark finds its way inside.
It’s about the distance between the world’s fire and the quiet cold we sometimes carry within.

Nothing Sets Me Alight

Until The Quiet Came

A sad song - Buble’ style - about love lost but hoping it will return

This House Is Not A Home

Mae Estes

I Better Go

"Where the Thunderheads Roll" is Vince Brooks at full horizon-height — a wide-open, big-sky country-rock track about the storms that raised him and the ones he still runs toward. The roar, the lightning, the darkening plains… Vince finds clarity in the chaos and meaning in the movement.

This is the soundtrack of a man who feels most alive beneath a sky that refuses to settle. Bold, cinematic, and pulled straight from the Oklahoma heartland.

Vince Brooks is an AI creation of Brook Stanley, and for this album both the lyrics and the music on this track were created using AI tools.

HASHTAGS:
#VinceBrooks #WhereTheThunderheadsRoll #CountryRock #RedDirtCountry #StormChaserSoul #Americana #OklahomaSkies #AIArtist #BrookStanley

Where The Thunderheads Roll

The Little Things of Christmas

One of my best friends and brother-in-law died suddenly.  As often death of someone close will do, it made me reflect on time spent with him and how easily time passes and we miss spending time with those with whom we are the closest.  This song was born out of this reflection and encourages each of us to be intentional with your time and don't put off seeing and hugging those you care most about.  Gotta make today count, because tomorrow is not promised.

Gotta Make Today Count (1)

Promoters - piss off!!!
Elzie is a singer songwriter from eastern Oklahoma in the US. He grew up listening to the great singer songwriters of the 1970’s and the greatly influence his music. He’s written songs and played music most of his life but just started recording after he retired from teaching middle school in 2018. Since then he’s recorded and put out more than 25 songs on streaming services and has performed in the major cities in Oklahoma. He and his wife live in eastern Oklahoma that’s part of the beautiful Ozark mountains. Many of his shows are solo playing covers with guitar and harmonica, but he’s looking for more opportunities to play his original songs. He does not use AI in any of his writing or production and would like to encourage humans to keep making real music.

This House Is Not A Home

Elzie B Hickerson