Song picture

Holes

Ward C Locke

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Single   $1
"Holes" is a soulful, acoustic-driven Americana track that explores the beauty found in the artifacts of the past. The song reflects on the lives once lived and the stories left.
americana acoustic guitar soulful harmonica melancholic reflective nostalgic ray la montagne style chris stapleton vibes gregory alan isakov beat
Artist picture
I don't confine myself to a single genre. My muse draws from every direction, and I follow where it leads using various AI technologies.
Hello, and thank you for listening. I don't really have a single genre that I aspire to create. It's mainly just what I'm feeling in the moment. My muse draws inspiration from every direction. My musical voyage takes me on journeys both internal and external, journeys whose results I can't always predict. For me, it's truly the journey that matters, not the destination. I let my creativity flow freely, allowing it to guide me where it will. I don't constrain myself to a particular style or genre; instead, I embrace the boundless possibilities of musical expression. Each new piece is an adventure, an opportunity to explore uncharted sonic territory. My aim is not to adhere to any preconceived notions of what my music "should" sound like. Rather, I strive to authentically channel the emotions, ideas, and perspectives that well up within me at any given time. The end result may defy easy categorization, but that's part of the beauty. I'm not beholden to any expectations other than my own artistic vision. So in short, I let my muse be my guide. I follow where it leads, embracing the unpredictable journey of musical creation (via various AI technologies). I hope you'll join me on these voyages, as I never know quite where they might take us. Cheers!
Song Info
Genre
Beats Beats General
Charts
Peak #90
Peak in subgenre #12
Author
Ward C Locke
Uploaded
January 05, 2026
Track Files
MP3
MP3 12.5 MB 320 kbps 5:28 minutes
Lossless
WAV 60.0 MB (no audio tag)
Meta Data
Samples
No samples, loops, or splices
BPM
74
Beat
4/4
Key
C maj
Vocals
Male
Character
Energy
relaxed, cool
high-energy
Danceable
coffee-place
dancefloor
Positivity
dark, sad, angry
happy
Appeal
unique
radio-friendly
Story behind the song
Lyrics and concept by Ward C Locke. Music produced with Suno AI.
Lyrics
Cracked Pyrex with the mushroom print Someone's grandma served her casserole in this Lipstick stain on a coffee cup rim Forty years of meals and now it's five bucks and some stranger's wish I'm elbow deep in a cardboard box Of postcards nobody saved, nobody kept Wish you were here from 1962 And I'm wondering who the hell was left I'm buying up the bones of other people's lives Searching through the wreckage for something that survived Every chipped plate and broken frame Is someone's whole world that forgot their name I'm a vulture, I'm a thief, I'm an archaeologist Trying to fill the holes in me with someone else's shit There's a shoebox full of someone's father Bellbottoms and a thumb across the lens Wedding photo, divorce papers, high school letter jacket All the stuff his kids didn't want in the end Old lady perfume mixing with the mold Mothballs and regret and something I can't name I'm neck-deep in the discount bin of souls Playing detective with the dead, it's a sick game I'm buying up the bones of other people's lives Searching through the wreckage for something that survived Every chipped plate and broken frame Is someone's whole world that forgot their name I'm a vulture, I'm a thief, I'm an archaeologist Trying to fill the holes in me with someone else's shit What am I looking for in all this dust? Some proof that someone mattered, that anything does? Or just another lamp I'll never use Another dead man's tie, another stranger's blues Found a diary with the pages torn Someone didn't want the truth to last But here I am, holding what they tried to burn A ghost whispering through the trash Maybe I'm the one who ends up here someday My records in a milk crate, dollar each Some kid laughing at my taste, throwing half away Everything I loved, just beyond their reach We're all just bones in other people's lives Waiting for the wreckage, hoping something survives Every chipped plate and broken frame Was someone's whole world before it lost its name We're all vultures, we're all thieves, we're archaeologists Filling up the holes in us with everyone else's shit Yeah, filling up the holes in us with everyone else's shit
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