On its way to streaming platforms — meanwhile, listen here.
A Helaia album. Seven songs about a collapse that became a door —
the boy who ran everything grew up, shame is dead, therapy is over.
There's a first party, a first touch, and mornings that wake up with
a question. Once it was a threat. Now it's an invitation: what next.
Dedication
To the angels who saved me
ע׳–ל׳–א׳
✶
The tracks
Seven songs, from darkness to light
I.
A Lie or a Light
Opening — from darkness to light
Total system collapse, a kid running everything with no middle ground. Then someone knew how to listen — and the nine-year-old grew up. He's a man now. Healthy. Whole.
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II.
Shame Is Dead
Dance-floor anthem — long live the beat!
The tyrant has fallen and no one guards the skin's door anymore. No age, no code, no test — that's what bodies are for. Dance.
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III.
End of Game
Chanson — a wink at Piaf
Rien de rien — no regret and no revenge. A grudge weighs half a ton, so every account was closed. A new page — and a whole heart.
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IV.
First Time at the Party
A groove off its orbit
Everyone has found the beat already, and the rocket forgot its launch codes. Then she lifts her head, fires a smile straight at his face — and zero to a hundred.
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V.
Light Made of Skin
A slow one — hooked from the first touch
I measured silk against her shoulder — and the silk apologized. Forty years in the cool cellar, and he was drunk like a young wine.
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VI.
What Next
The title track — from threat to invitation
A house that was a waiting room with beautiful curtains. One signature, a suitcase, stairs — and suddenly there's a sea, suddenly there's rhythm. Every morning wakes with a question, and it's not fear — it's appetite.
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VII.
It Is Mine
Closing statement
A machine rhymes correctly, but there is no will in it. That will is mine alone. I write. It is mine — and it is beautiful.
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✶
The method
One man, an AI, one project
This album was made with the help of artificial intelligence. The lyrics
were written with Claude (Anthropic), the music was created with Suno.
The intention, the direction, the final choices — mine. The words — from
our conversation. The result — from both of us.
The last song on the album, "It Is Mine", is about exactly this:
a machine rhymes correctly — but the will is mine alone.
One man, an AI, one project.
✶
The project
One story, three languages
What Next is the English side of a bilingual EP — the same story is sung
in Hebrew on מה הלאה. It follows
Rien n'est perdu, the French album of
historical speeches. This time the story is a personal one: a collapse,
therapy, a goodbye, a first dance, a first touch — and a question
deliberately left open: what next.
✶
The texts
Lyrics
I. A Lie or a Light
I was in the dark... (a light...)
All systems crashing, one by one
A child is running it all
It's high or low, no in-between
Holding tears so they won't fall
Was it love? A lie — or a light?
Not an end — it was a start
I had darkness in my heart
Now I have a light, a light
Two and a half years, one gaze
A flirt, version zero point one
The wall of logic that I raised —
Her smile came through it like the sun
Was it love? A lie — or a light?
Not an end — it was a start
I had darkness in my heart
Now I have a light, a light
The breakdown opened up a door
Somebody knew how to listen
The nine-year-old boy grew up
Now he's a man. Healthy. Whole.
I want...
I want to say...
I want to say that I want
I want to say that I want to live
To live! To live! To live!
There was darkness — you brought light
I am happy, I am strong
And tomorrow came along
And this light goes on and on
A lie... or... a light.
II. Shame Is Dead
(oh-oh-oh... oh-oh-oh...)
Have you heard the news tonight?
After fifty years outside
I bought myself a little gift:
One ticket — and five hours of bliss
It's dead... it's really dead...
Shame is dead — long live the beat!
Move like nobody's keeping score
Shame is dead — long live the beat!
That's what a body's for
(dance! dance!)
Five hours without a pause
Shame went down to the applause
It's dead... it's really dead...
Shame is dead — long live the beat!
Move like nobody's keeping score
Shame is dead — long live the beat!
That's what a body's for
(dance! dance!)
(long live... long live the beat)
Shame is dead — long live the beat!
III. End of Game
Rien... de rien... (voilà)
The teacher with the poison tongue
The jealous ones and all the fools
The boss who couldn't stand my rise
Who hid behind his little rules
No remorse and no revenge
No debt left for them to pay
Rien de rien — je ne regrette rien
I've got music left to play
Pastel and white, and voilà —
And black, the optimistic black
I sing, I strum, I muscle up
And not just strings on my guitar
No remorse and no revenge
No debt left for them to pay
Rien de rien — je ne regrette rien
I've got music left to play
They say that envy is a sin
In French it just means "I want more"
J'ai envie, j'ai le désir —
And what I love, I do... encore
I don't hate you — hate takes time
And my time is finally mine
A grudge weighs half a ton
I travel light from now on
I closed the books on every debt
Even the ones from the start
The world and I are even now
A fresh page, an open heart
I think what I want to think
I drink what I want to drink
I create the way I want
With machines that learn to dream
I decode me by myself
My wish list is getting long
I dance inside every beat
I want, I want, I want — encore!
No remorse and no revenge
No debt left for them to pay
Rien de rien — je ne regrette rien
I've got music left to play
Rien... de rien. (encore?)
IV. First Time at the Party
First time at the party... (mmm)
They're pouring oil like the guests are at the door
Someone's wiping down the marble, someone's melting on the floor
Vanilla never moved me, but this ain't quite a groove
It's notes on the wrong beat, thieves afraid to move
She straps in for the ride now, she's driving, he's the car
And me — well, Houston, we have a problem
(we have a problem, baby)
My rocket's lost the launch codes, staring at the stars
Am I shocked, am I jealous — or just out of orbit
First time at the party, maybe I'm the one off beat
The band is playing something that my body just can't keep
It's messy on the mattress, it's messy in my head
But zero to a hundred is only one smile ahead
He's built like a bull, moving through the herd
Proportions fully respected — that's a thought I shoulda spared
Then she lifts her head and fires that smile across the room
And the power's back on, the whole band's back in tune
On and off... on and off... zero to a hundred and back
Beautiful to look at... beautiful to hear
Give it a few weeks, give it a few months
I might stand up and answer that smile myself (oh-h)
(come on, find the beat)
First time at the party.
V. Light Made of Skin
Hooked at first touch... (mmm)
I wrote the Bureau of Standards a letter
Said your rulers are all out of date
I measured silk against her shoulder
And silk came back in second place
So fair the sun went out of fashion
Every tan line quietly resigned
Exaggerating? Maybe
But skin has never lied
'Cause I never knew the taste of life
Till I learned to tango slow
Down where the rose keeps her secret
Where only the patient go
Not every glass — but hers,
Hers tastes like being born
One sip of the private reserve
And I can't drink cheap anymore
They say the very first wine glass
Was molded on the curve of a queen
I won't say what I found that evening
But the legend's not what it seems
It's not a grand hotel with a lobby
It's a boutique on a quiet street
A little shy behind the shutters
But the welcome's warm and sweet
Nothing there you have to search for
Everything is close at hand
I rang once — and got a hug
That I still don't understand
A vintage forty years in the cellar
That drinks like it was bottled in spring
That skin is the reason I walked back in the cage
Let the dark keep everything...
I'll pour the light (the light...)
Light made of skin
(one sip... just one sip)
Hooked at first touch.
Light made of skin.
VI. What Next
The waiting room... (shh...)
A table for two, and no one's hungry
One more fight over nothing at all
One more night lying back to back
The TV talking for us down the hall
Call it a home? A waiting room
With pretty curtains on the wall
One signature, one suitcase, down the stairs
I thought the whole world was falling down
A room, a couch, someone who listens —
I learned to say "I" out loud
Suddenly the sea, suddenly the rhythm
My body asks — and won't apologize
Every morning brings a question
Once a threat — now an invitation:
What next? What next?
It's not fear — it's appetite
What next? What next?
Tuesday night, a café, all of us
People who call things by their name
Friday night the door swings open wide
The same old games — without the shame
From all the tries, one letter stayed: S
S for the sea, S for set free —
And the very middle... of music
(what next, baby... what next)
What... next?
VII. It Is Mine
You were born with a golden voice
And you sold it — good for you
But now I hear you drawing lines
Around what I'm allowed to do
You hold the power to make us cry
To make us love, to make us dance
To hand us reasons to resist —
Be proud you ever had that chance
I won't let anyone pretend
These words of mine are not mine
Because a machine combed them tender
And taught the endings how to rhyme
A machine that studied magic
In the school of all your songs
The way you studied those before you —
That's how music moves along
So that someone born unarmed
No piano, no maestro's hand
Can finally look at what he made
And be proud of where he stands
The machine can rhyme, but cannot want
It has no ache, it has no aim
The wanting's mine — that's all the art
And no one wants it quite the same
And if you'd rather keep the stage
For the chosen and the few
Enjoy the private paradise —
The world sings on without you
I write. These words are still my words
Revised, rewritten — they are mine
These are my thoughts.
And they are beautiful.