At Lion’s Den Creations, we believe that every setback can lead to a powerful comeback. My journey of recovery has been a profound exploration of resilience and personal growth. From confronting various challenges to understanding the importance of mental wellbeing, this experience has paved the way for a more purposeful life. It is vital to acknowledge that recovery is not a linear path; it is filled with ups and downs, each contributing uniquely to the person I am today. See below for Lyrics to Daniel Bacon's debut single, Dead Wood and the Phoenix. Available on all platforms.

Dead wood. And the phoenix.

Written by

Daniel Bacon

Devils weed planted a seed that grew in the dark, and I woke up on this sinking ship.

Thats where this story starts. From the wreckage of whats left I search for lines to play

this part, I’m sick of pasting over holes In my seeking empty heart.

Now I’m writing down this memory as whats left of me departs. In the hope to Transcend

time and death like some hidden caveman art. But here I am, a countlessly broken man,

somehow still standing before you. Sometimes smiling sometimes drowning.

But life goes on…and on. And on…

And nothing will wake you up to living like pain. To suffer is to grow. It’s comforting to

know, that there's lessons and teachings only darkness can show.

If you want to touch heaven your roots must descend into hell. Diamonds are forged in

fire, and I burned and I Fell. Now the same flame roars in my belly, with a thirst only

love can quell. And let me tell you its never been so hard

To stand the fuck, back up.

Sometimes I’m shit scared to keep walking, because I fear one day I will be back.

FALLING. Banging my head against the same wall. Over and over.

I’ve been around these parts before, a few times actually and I thought I’d locked the

door and thrown away the key. But as I’m coughing up the smoke, through foggy clouds

of blame I see its time let go of the bullshit and point my finger back at me.

Up here It’s all a trap. Most of it isn’t real and at least down there I actually FEEL

something.

Out there, there is never enough, and we all invest in this semi comfortable lie. Like

donkeys running for a dangling carrot on a stick. Always, the future, just out of reach.

Eh OWW eEE oWwww

more more more.And with each deluded step it NEVER gets any closer, and we are just further and further

away from THE TRUTH.

Are we too busy or blind or just too scared to see the earth is rotting more to its core each

day? Because of us.

Divinity itself reduced to Billions of channel hopping pill popping online shopping black

holes. Impossible to satisfy and always hungry for more.

Addicted.

And what we want really want cannot be bought or sold, we are all simply caught up

chasing paper in the cold.

It’s time to fucking take it on the chin, The same mistakes won’t let us win.

I’ve been picking through the scraps of another mans struggle for somewhere to begin for

years. And back Again. And for what? To finally realise no one else words will set me

free? No matter how hard I listen. And yet, still I want to hear more.

This world is chaos. In a knot. Endless adventure and cacophonies. Still I’m hungry, and

yearning, and failing, flying and rarely learning but still somethings burning up in me.

And every day the pressures building. As the weight of this collapsing world bares down

more and more on my buckling knees each step. These Legs shaking.

All I can do is keep walking. Even when it fucking hurts like hell. And it feels like it

always will. Over and over. Deeper and deeper still.

The well from which we drink is bottomless.

We are bottomless. An endless abyss.

And yet…

Why are we so afraid to feel it? Why are we so afraid of our pain?

Because undeniably, if one seeks joy, it is natures only inevitable truth.And still we run .

Anything else will do as we look the other way. Just chuck something in one of my holes.

If I can eat it, drink it, sniff it, smoke it or fuck it. NAME THE PRICE.

And yet most of the time we, I, won’t even be there, for a single satisfying second.

But as long I,

we, believe

it might drag us away from the cold of this widely accepted yet crumbling illusion of

order, for a moment. I’ll PAY.

And still the world keeps turning, and we somehow spin with it like dogs chasing tales.

And still the sun comes up every fucking day.

And each day I try to remember to say thank you for shining new light onto old pain. And

rubbing sleep from tired eyes I hope that maybe today is the day when we can rise up

with the sun and be one again. I thank this day for another chance to wake up. As I

continue to try. Every day. To keep make sense of it all.

Interlude( “Unconscious energy is destiny” )