✦ single · coming soon

Perfect World

Auny · 2026

in a perfect world, when it all seems ok, they start a war

ReleasesSeptember 11, 2026

GenreFolk · Singer-Songwriter · Dark Acoustic Protest

LabelAunySillyMe

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a note from auny

Why September 11, 8:46 AM

I am from New York. I am releasing this song on September 11 at 8:46 in the morning.

I did not write it about that day. I wrote it about how the worst thing and the most ordinary thing keep happening at the same time, and how nobody gets to choose which one arrives first. Then I read it back and understood which morning it sounded like.

It goes out at 8:46 because that is when an ordinary Tuesday stopped being ordinary. For everybody who was here, and everybody who was not.

Auny

lyrics

in a perfect world,
when it seems like it's all in place,
a wildfire appears

in a perfect world,
when it all seems ok,
they start a war

in a perfect world,
when the rainbow appears
there's a tornado nearby

in a perfect world,
when the sun shines bright
it appears to be a gloomy night

in a perfect world
when the sirens are howling at the moon
a new life is born

in a perfect world
when you and i fight
wedding bells toll somewhere

in a perfect world
when the hands of an addict won't stop trembling
somebody's being awarded a five year chip

in a perfect world
when you're crying in a parking lot
somebody across town just hit the lottery

in a perfect world..
i guess all i'm trying to say is...
there's no such thing as a perfect world.

the character

Rebel

the one painting the wall

A street artist working at night, after rain, in parking lots and underpasses and on subway platforms. Every mark in this record’s world is hers, and the cobalt-blue paint on her face and hands is how you know it.

She does not narrate the song, she illustrates it. Each stanza pairs a good thing with a bad one happening at the same moment, and her job is to paint the good half onto a world delivering the other half behind her: a rainbow sprayed on a rooftop while a tornado closes in; her crying on a kerb while a lit window across town holds two people celebrating, the two joined by a trail of her own blue paint.

Her register is weary defiance, not triumph. She keeps painting and it keeps getting painted over. The last line of the song is “there’s no such thing as a perfect world”, and her answer to it is to sit on a bench and watch a council worker roller flat grey across her mural, one stencilled bird escaping the edge.

Arckeeps painting anyway

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