From the recording LP22 EVERYWHERE AND NOWHERE
These lyrics express a moment of transition — standing on the threshold between what has been and what could be. The song reflects on a year of creation, but refuses to remain in memory; instead, it embraces becoming, change, and the promise of growth. The cello, mandolin, and guitar act as metaphors for time and evolution, while AI appears not as a threat but as a new wind that helps set the course forward. The repeated line Next year — we rise again is both a vow and an invitation: to step into uncertainty with open hands, to welcome transformation even when the path is unclear, to trust that identity is something continually rewritten. The narrator carries the past like a city of experience, yet moves forward knowing that the future must be stepped into, not waited for. Ultimately, the song is about renewal, courage, creative expansion — and the belief that tomorrow is a canvas yet to be painted.
Lyrics
BECOMING
Next year waits like a page unwritten,
Soft as dawn on a winter street.
A hum beneath the cello’s timber,
A pulse where old and new worlds meet.
I gather threads of past and future,
Tie them to the bow and breathe—
The silence listens, wide and patient,
For what the next step dares to weave.
Pre-Chorus
Not yesterday, not yet tomorrow,
But the bridge between the two—
A trembling note, a spark unfolding,
A door where possibility breaks through.
Chorus
Next year — I will walk beyond the echo,
Write in colours I have never named.
Next year — let the strings become a river,
Let the river flood the frame.
I am more than I have been, and still becoming,
Open hands to everything unclear.
Next year, next year — we rise again.
Verse 2
I hear a song that has no ending,
Only chapters waiting for their tone.
Mandolin like birds in morning,
Guitar like lanterns carved from stone.
AI like wind behind the sails,
Not the storm, but the stranger star—
Together shaping constellations
Of who we were, and who we are.
Pre-Chorus
No fear of steps that lead to falling,
No fear of rooms where no one knows—
Creation grows where comfort shatters,
Where unimagined rhythm grows.
Chorus
Next year — I will walk beyond the echo,
Write in colours I have never named.
Next year — let the strings become a river,
Let the river flood the frame.
Take the future in the hand that trembles,
Turn uncertainty to atmosphere.
Next year, next year — we rise again.
Bridge
I carry every song behind me
Like cities built from dreams and dust—
But forward is the only honest compass,
And change the only thing I trust.
So let the bow draw bright horizons,
Let the pulse ignite the air—
The path is mine, the sound is breathing—
Next year is waiting everywhere.
Final Chorus
Next year — my voice will open wider,
New constellations in my skin.
Next year — I will stand inside the threshold,
Unfamiliar, and begin.
Not what was, but what I’m choosing—
Not the past, but something near.
Next year, next year — we rise again.
We rise again.