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Edges of the Frame

'Edges of the Frame' is a quiet anthem for the ones we pass without seeing. Set to a sparse folk ballad with male and female vocals, this song tells small, intimate stories of people living at the margins — the woman at the laundromat window, the old man counting pills, the kid riding buses to nowhere, the performer rehearsing for an empty room. Not as tragedies. Not as spectacles. But as whole human beings carrying entire inner worlds. The images in this video draw inspiration from the unfiltered, human-centered portrait tradition that looks directly at those society often crops out. Faces held in stillness. Eyes that don’t apologize. Moments where vulnerability and dignity live side by side. “Edges of the Frame” is about visibility. About the quiet resilience of people labeled “too much,” “too strange,” “not quite fitting.” It asks what happens when we stop looking past strangers — and start seeing pieces of ourselves in them. If you’ve ever felt outside the picture… this song is for you. We’re still here. A Maria Chambers Production™ © 2026 (Production and arrangement rights reserved)  Music and images by Maria Chambers With AI-Assistance [Verse 1] She smokes by the laundromat window Lipstick on yesterday’s dress Her name is a rumor in town Her laugh says “I’ve seen worse than this” Old man in a hallway apartment Counting his pills by the sink Talks to the faces in portraits They’re the only ones asking what he thinks [Chorus] Here’s to the people on the edges of the frame Cut off by the cropping But carrying their names Pressed like a thumbprint in the dust of the day We are the ones the world turns away But we’re still here We’re still here [Verse 2] Kid with the hand-painted jacket Sleeps on a bus till it ends Carries a notebook of planets Draws whole universes No friends Woman in sequins at midday Practicing lines in the glass Bows to an empty old theater Takes her applause from the past [Chorus] Here’s to the people on the edges of the frame Cut off by the cropping But carrying their names Pressed like a thumbprint in the dust of the day We are the ones the world turns away But we’re still here We’re still here [Bridge] Sidewalk saints and midnight talkers (oh) Quiet queens and broken fathers Every “too much ” every “too strange” Holds up the sky at the edge of the stage Lonely rooms with one bare bulb Hearts that never quite dissolve Tell me Who decides what counts as whole When every crack still lets in soul [Chorus] Here’s to the people on the edges of the frame Staring back steady when they’re given a name Pressed like a thumbprint in the dust of the day We are the ones the world turns away But we’re still here We’re still here [Outro] Stand in the doorway a moment Let all our faces belong If you look long enough at a stranger You start to hear your own song #IndieFolk, #FolkBallad, #AlternativeFolk, #SingerSongwriter, #StorySong, #HumanStories, #Outsiders, #PoeticLyrics, #IndieMusicVideo, #ArtSong, #AcousticFolk, #EmotionalMusic, #CinematicFolk, #SocialPortrait, #UndergroundVoices, #Compassion, #LyricVideo, #IndieArtists, #MeaningfulMusic,