We didn’t expect this.
Today we received a letter from Ezra, lead singer of The Gear Girls, and it left us stunned.
It wasn’t press. It wasn’t fanfare.
It was a cry.
A cry for help from deep inside Clockworks City, where music has always been rebellion wrapped in rhythm.
But this time… the rhythm’s wrapped in ashes.
One of their own—her best friend—died in a fire trying to save others. And the system?
It shrugged.
They called it an accident.
She called it what it was: indifference masked as protocol.
And now she’s asking us to help finish an album that might be the last sound of the truth anyone hears from the underground.
Ezra doesn’t want revenge.
She wants voices heard.
She wants names remembered.
We’ve promised her protection.
Transport. Tech. Distribution.
We’ll use whatever the gnomes can muster—because some voices aren’t just songs, they’re the pulse of a city fighting to survive.
This track—“Echoes in the Smoke”—is the first.
It’s raw. It’s real.
And it deserves to be shared.
Listen.
Feel.
Then make others hear it too.
💥 SHARE this post. Spread the word. Let Ezra and the girls be heard beyond the Watchers, beyond the silence.
They gave us music in the darkness.
Now we give them light.
— Höbin Luckyfeller
Archivist. Rebel. Gnome.
Echos In The Smoke
The sirens wailed before the sky turned—
the ash low like snowfall, silent and heavy.
You didn’t stop. You didn’t look back.
You dashed into the blaze like you belonged to it—
They called you a hero on the evening news—
while ash of workers are swept by crews.
I stood where you fell, the place where you're buried.
They call it bravery.
I call it the burden you never should have carried.
They watched from towers too high to hear screams.
Counting profits while you went back to save another.
Echoes in the smoke—you speak to me.
While my heart breaks, cause I just can't believe...
My friend is gone.
…you're gone.
Echoes in the smoke—you call my name
Rising through the grief, the heat and flame
(We will not forget.)
(We are not alone.)
Echoes in the smoke still lead us home.
The district’s clean now. Brighter. Safer, they say.
But I see your face in every shop window they repaired.
It's the weight of what’s unfinished.
I light a candle. I say your name. I raise my voice.
Who gets to stay? Who decides who’s worth the air?
Why is it always the ones who love most
who die for the ones who don’t care?
They think memory fades.
…but memory is a match.
Echoes in the smoke—you speak to me.
While my heart breaks, cause I just can't believe...
My friend is gone.
…you're gone.
Echoes in the smoke—you call my name
Rising through the grief, the heat and flame
(We will not forget.)
(We are not alone.)
Echoes in the smoke still lead us home.
I play for those they leave behind,
for every soul they won’t defend.
You lit the fire with your life—
and I will burn it to the end.
