On March 20, Thomas Alexander Kolbe releases his new single “Songs In My Dreams” – a one-track offering that, for the first time, places his own voice at the heart of the composition.
The song began with a question, simple yet insistent: Why do dreams slip away the moment we wake? Why do melodies, fragments of speech, and entire emotional worlds dissolve into nothingness at the first touch of morning light? How can something feel so vivid in the dark – and yet vanish like mist seconds after opening our eyes?
“Songs In My Dreams” grew from this reflection. The lyric captures a quiet yearning: to remember the songs heard in sleep, those fleeting melodies that seem complete and meaningful in the night, only to retreat beyond recall. It’s an almost childlike wish: I want to remember the songs in my dreams. Don’t you?
Musically, the track bridges Kolbe’s ambient and textural background with a clear, focused song structure. The production is spacious and restrained, designed to let the central element – the voice – speak without distraction. His natural bass-baritone anchors the piece, grounding it in depth, while the higher registers introduce tension and vulnerability where the emotion demands it. The performance isn’t about virtuosity; it’s about precision of feeling.
There is no alternate version – just this single, deliberate statement. One track. One voice. One question.
“Songs In My Dreams” will be available on all major streaming platforms from March 20. Further details and streaming links will be published here on release day.
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
At night, when all is quiet, there’s a note beneath my breath,
a faded little echo drifting softly through my chest.
I turn as if to hold it, but it slips into the haze,
a shadow made of music wandering through half-lit ways.
[Pre-Chorus]
I reach but it still floats a little further every time,
like something made of silver that dissolves before the line.
[Chorus]
There are songs in my dreams that return in gentle waves,
pulling me through moments that the waking light won’t save.
When I rise in the dark, I try to trace where they’ve been,
sometimes I catch a whisper, sometimes nothing stays within.
[Verse 2]
Sometimes there’s someone singing with a tone I’ve never heard,
sometimes it sounds like I’m the one, though quiet as a bird.
A chord that feels familiar though I can’t recall the tune,
a rhythm turning slowly like a lantern near the moon.
[Pre-Chorus]
I reach but it keeps drifting like a tide that gently breaks,
leaving on my pillow all the traces that it makes.
[Chorus]
There are songs in my dreams that return in gentle waves,
opening hidden doorways that the morning never saves.
When I wake, I keep wondering what part of it was real,
and what the quiet night decided that I needed to feel.
[Bridge]
Maybe they are echoes from a time I lost to sleep,
or paths that only surface when the night runs warm and deep.
I lie still for a moment just to hear them fade and glide,
until the first pale light pulls the last of them aside.
[Final Chorus]
There are songs in my dreams that return in gentle waves,
shadows made of music that the daylight never tames.
Even when they vanish, something lingers in my chest:
a tune that tried to reach me before sinking into rest.
