Administrator FilesSINGLE JUST RELEASED! "When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong", by Producer Bravid ValourDownloadComments2 0 likesBy Administrator2 Sep 2025MusicGod makes them then matches them, by Producer Bravid ValourPrevious NextCommentsNoticeLog in Your need to be logged in to be able to comment. Username or email*Password*0 likesBy Administrator2 Sep 2025 - EditedComment by ownerTwo mirror souls, circling a tiny, tender storm. A ballroom of arguments where every step a norm, every spark wears a halo of form. they find a paradox: love that argues, argue that loves, chasing tail like a fox Verse 1 Mr Always Right stands tall, a lighthouse with a grin, preaching perfect conclusions in a jersey pressed to win. He speaks in certainties, a map without a bend, believing every question with him at the end. Beside him, Mrs Never Wrong tilts the world with a sigh, a compass that insists the truth wears a different sky. She threads through rhetoric like a silver-spun thread, finding every fault in the weather, every foothold in dread. Pre-Chorus But beneath the bravado, a softer fire grows, a whisper that agrees where the heart already knows. They dance on a line where thunder meets wine, each claim a confession, each glare a sign. Chorus When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong, the choir of their egos sang a love-song strong. They argued in rhymes til the moon learned their tune, and the sun gave them permission to kiss in the steam of a sand dune. In every disagreement, a whisper of grace, in every embrace, the egos find their place. They’re in love with themselves, yet drawn to the other’s light, When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong tonight. Verse 2 He boasts of the blueprint, a bachelor of fact, but the blueprint cracks when her laughter breaks the pact. She counters with nuance, a chorus of “perhaps,” and a wink that says, “I’ll meet you where the truth silently claps.” They argue in sonnets, then melt into a sigh, a paradox pulsing where the wild things lie. Their hearts rehearse the same old refrain: two shining stars colliding, their sparks shower like the rain. Pre-Chorus Yet in the clash there’s a compass, aching, true, a map drawn in freckles of the morning dew. They want to be certain, yet yearn to be seen, to love without lifting the other’s veiled screen. Chorus When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong, the choir of their egos sang a love-song that was strong. They argued in rhymes til the moon learned their tune, and the sun gave them permission to kiss in the steam of a sand dune. In every disagreement, a whisper of grace, in every embrace, the egos find their place. They’re in love with themselves, yet drawn to the other’s light, When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong tonight. Bridge Maybe love is a paradox wearing a velvet bow, where certainty loosens and vulnerability grows. They speak in comets, then land in a chair of trust, finding, in the collision, a mutual lust. Not triumph, but tenderness, not victory, but vow, a duel that ends with surrender, then something somehow— they rise, not broken, but beautifully true, two mirrors that learned to reflect something new. 0 likesBy Administrator2 Sep 2025Comment by owner
0 likesBy Administrator2 Sep 2025 - EditedComment by ownerTwo mirror souls, circling a tiny, tender storm. A ballroom of arguments where every step a norm, every spark wears a halo of form. they find a paradox: love that argues, argue that loves, chasing tail like a fox Verse 1 Mr Always Right stands tall, a lighthouse with a grin, preaching perfect conclusions in a jersey pressed to win. He speaks in certainties, a map without a bend, believing every question with him at the end. Beside him, Mrs Never Wrong tilts the world with a sigh, a compass that insists the truth wears a different sky. She threads through rhetoric like a silver-spun thread, finding every fault in the weather, every foothold in dread. Pre-Chorus But beneath the bravado, a softer fire grows, a whisper that agrees where the heart already knows. They dance on a line where thunder meets wine, each claim a confession, each glare a sign. Chorus When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong, the choir of their egos sang a love-song strong. They argued in rhymes til the moon learned their tune, and the sun gave them permission to kiss in the steam of a sand dune. In every disagreement, a whisper of grace, in every embrace, the egos find their place. They’re in love with themselves, yet drawn to the other’s light, When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong tonight. Verse 2 He boasts of the blueprint, a bachelor of fact, but the blueprint cracks when her laughter breaks the pact. She counters with nuance, a chorus of “perhaps,” and a wink that says, “I’ll meet you where the truth silently claps.” They argue in sonnets, then melt into a sigh, a paradox pulsing where the wild things lie. Their hearts rehearse the same old refrain: two shining stars colliding, their sparks shower like the rain. Pre-Chorus Yet in the clash there’s a compass, aching, true, a map drawn in freckles of the morning dew. They want to be certain, yet yearn to be seen, to love without lifting the other’s veiled screen. Chorus When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong, the choir of their egos sang a love-song that was strong. They argued in rhymes til the moon learned their tune, and the sun gave them permission to kiss in the steam of a sand dune. In every disagreement, a whisper of grace, in every embrace, the egos find their place. They’re in love with themselves, yet drawn to the other’s light, When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong tonight. Bridge Maybe love is a paradox wearing a velvet bow, where certainty loosens and vulnerability grows. They speak in comets, then land in a chair of trust, finding, in the collision, a mutual lust. Not triumph, but tenderness, not victory, but vow, a duel that ends with surrender, then something somehow— they rise, not broken, but beautifully true, two mirrors that learned to reflect something new.
Comments
Two mirror souls, circling a tiny, tender storm.
A ballroom of arguments where every step a norm,
every spark wears a halo of form. they find a paradox:
love that argues, argue that loves, chasing tail like a fox
Verse 1
Mr Always Right stands tall, a lighthouse with a grin,
preaching perfect conclusions in a jersey pressed to win.
He speaks in certainties, a map without a bend,
believing every question with him at the end.
Beside him, Mrs Never Wrong tilts the world with a sigh,
a compass that insists the truth wears a different sky.
She threads through rhetoric like a silver-spun thread,
finding every fault in the weather, every foothold in dread.
Pre-Chorus
But beneath the bravado, a softer fire grows,
a whisper that agrees where the heart already knows.
They dance on a line where thunder meets wine,
each claim a confession, each glare a sign.
Chorus
When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong,
the choir of their egos sang a love-song strong.
They argued in rhymes til the moon learned their tune,
and the sun gave them permission to kiss in the steam of a sand dune.
In every disagreement, a whisper of grace,
in every embrace, the egos find their place.
They’re in love with themselves,
yet drawn to the other’s light,
When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong tonight.
Verse 2
He boasts of the blueprint, a bachelor of fact,
but the blueprint cracks when her laughter breaks the pact.
She counters with nuance, a chorus of “perhaps,”
and a wink that says, “I’ll meet you where the truth silently claps.
” They argue in sonnets, then melt into a sigh,
a paradox pulsing where the wild things lie.
Their hearts rehearse the same old refrain:
two shining stars colliding, their sparks shower like the rain.
Pre-Chorus
Yet in the clash there’s a compass,
aching, true,
a map drawn in freckles of the morning dew.
They want to be certain, yet yearn to be seen,
to love without lifting the other’s veiled screen.
Chorus
When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong,
the choir of their egos sang a love-song that was strong.
They argued in rhymes til the moon learned their tune,
and the sun gave them permission to kiss in the steam of a sand dune.
In every disagreement, a whisper of grace, in every embrace, the egos find their place.
They’re in love with themselves,
yet drawn to the other’s light,
When Mr Always Right married Mrs Never Wrong tonight.
Bridge
Maybe love is a paradox wearing a velvet bow,
where certainty loosens and vulnerability grows.
They speak in comets, then land in a chair of trust,
finding, in the collision, a mutual lust.
Not triumph, but tenderness, not victory, but vow,
a duel that ends with surrender, then something somehow—
they rise, not broken, but beautifully true,
two mirrors that learned to reflect something new.