one mistake

My Love Is For Sale is a retrospective thoughtful song about love and being ever hopeful and optimistic about the future. 

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My Love Is For Sale

I pressed your name
Into the glass
Watched it melt
Watched it pass

Teeth in the mirror
Smiles that bite
I look for you
In the absence of light

I was louder with reverb
But I meant it more quiet
You never heard me
Until I went silent

If I scream soft enough
Will it still count?
If I stop loving you
Do I bleed it out?

I’m still here
But not enough

louder with reverb (bonus)

Baby, come back

Baby

FEEL LIKE SOMEONE AGAIN

next to u

To have faith is to persevere. It is to hold fast to a thread of light when the world has gone dark. And the most difficult act of perseverance is not holding on, but letting go.

    It is a quiet, devastating courage to loosen your grip on what was, to embrace the ache of its absence. We do not wait for the pain to fade away; we move through its very heart until it transforms us. We do not shatter the chains of the past with force, but by feeling their cold weight until they simply fall away, having taught us all they can.

    This is how you emerge—wiser, softer, and infinitely more formidable. A soul etched by experience, and utterly unforgettable.

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Fade Away

Debut EP showing soulfulness and vulnerability. Navigating life, laughter, struggles, and peace one song at a time. 

A Song for Peanut

Written and recorded by the Stratton project (guest singer)

Brand new day

A Robin Hood Christmas is a modern London folk myth.

Told through wandering minstrel instruments — wooden flutes, small strings, footsteps and breath — and threaded with the low pulse of the city, the album reimagines the legend of Robin Hood in a winter London where Christmas doesn’t reach everywhere equally.

This is Robin of Epping Forest: moving on foot, off-grid, redistributing what’s pooled too high. Alongside him are Little John, who carries the weight; Maid Marian, who keeps the network alive; Friar Tuck, who offers warmth without judgement; and the Sheriff of Notting Hill, whose power is polite, procedural, and still.

Medieval folk textures blend with subtle modern sounds — jungle fragments, underground drones, glitch echoes — not as contrast, but as continuity. The forest is no longer a place. It’s a practice. It moves where people move.

There are no heroes here. No victories.
Just winter held together — this time.

THE MINSTRELS MOVE ON

Do music for fun Uses AI to sing my music that I write 
chirp.me/Lag_z

Baby, come back

Lag-s

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