Which Artist Wrote 'Tomorrow Will Be Better' Song?

I get curious about who actually holds the rights whenever an old charity record pops up, and 'tomorrow will be better' is a classic example. Broadly speaking, there are two separate copyrights to think about: the composition (lyrics and melody) and the sound recording (the specific performance captured on a record or tape). In most cases the composition copyright belongs to the songwriters or their publishers, while the recording copyright belongs to the label or production company that funded and released the recording. For 'tomorrow will be better' specifically, the original creators—those who wrote the melody and lyrics—would normally own the composition rights unless they assigned or licensed them away. The record company or collective that organized and produced the 1985 charity single typically owns the recording copyright, unless the performers or organizers agreed to different terms for a charity release. To be sure, I always check the liner notes, look up performing-rights databases (like ASCAP, BMI, PRS or a local equivalent), or the release credits; that often tells you who the publishers and labels are. In short: expect the songwriters/publishers to control the composition and the producing label or rights administrator to control the master recording, though charity releases sometimes have special agreements. It's a neat piece of music history that still tugs at me.

On slow rainy mornings I find myself humming lines that promise better days, and that simple phrase 'tomorrow will be better' has a million tiny faces to me. At its warmest it reads like a hand on your shoulder — a gentle pact between listener and song that insists pain is temporary. Fans who lean into that reading will make playlists and late-night mixes, they’ll tattoo a single word or stitch it into fandom merch, and it becomes a ritual: press play, breathe, believe for the next 180 seconds. But there's a grittier interpretation floating around too. Some people treat the lyric as a coping strategy, something to repeat when therapy feels too expensive or stigma keeps them quiet. Others push back, saying it can be a kind of pressure — as if expecting immediate improvement erases the messiness of recovery. In fan threads you'll see both takes clash and then somehow stitch together: hopeful edits next to honest threads about setbacks. I keep a sticky note with that line, not because it fixes anything, but because some days it reminds me I can survive until the next one — and that, for me, matters more than a promise being perfect.

I'm pretty sure there isn't a single neat answer here because 'Chase Me' is one of those song titles that multiple artists have used across genres. If you're thinking of the K-pop track, the song 'Chase Me' was released and performed by Dreamcatcher as their debut single in 2017 — it’s the one that introduced their rock-tinged sound and horror-inspired concept to a wider audience. That version is definitely the one fans of heavy riffs and eerie choreography usually refer to when they say 'Chase Me'. Beyond the K-pop scene, I've bumped into indie, electronic, and even game soundtrack pieces called 'Chase Me', each written and produced by completely different people. So depending on the scene—mainstream pop, indie singer-songwriter, EDM, or anime/game OST—'Chase Me' could point to a different creator. I like to think of the title as a little musical trope: chase, pursuit, tension—artists keep coming back to it because it conveys motion so clearly. If Dreamcatcher’s version is what you meant, then that’s the most recognizable one for recent mainstream listeners, and it left a big impression on me with its blend of metal guitars and pop hooks. If you meant a different 'Chase Me', tell me which vibe—pop, rock, EDM—and I can walk through more specific versions, but either way I love how the title keeps getting reinvented.

I love how little phrases travel across languages, and 'tomorrow will be better' is one of those tiny hopeful things that shows up almost everywhere. In European tongues you'll find: Spanish 'Mañana será mejor', French 'Demain sera meilleur', German 'Morgen wird es besser', Italian 'Domani sarà migliore', Portuguese 'Amanhã será melhor', Dutch 'Morgen wordt het beter', Russian 'Завтра будет лучше' (Zavtra budet luchshe), Polish 'Jutro będzie lepiej' and Romanian 'Mâine va fi mai bine'. These feel familiar and direct, often used in songs or pep talks. Across Asia the phrase shifts shape but keeps the comfort: Chinese '明天会更好' (Míngtiān huì gèng hǎo), Japanese '明日はもっと良くなるよ。' (Ashita wa motto yoku naru yo), Korean '내일은 더 나아질 거예요.' (Naeil-eun deo naajil geoyeyo), Hindi/Urdu 'कल बेहतर होगा.' / 'کل بہتر ہوگا.' (Kal behtar hoga), Arabic 'الغد سيكون أفضل.' (Al-ghad sayakūn afdal), Vietnamese 'Ngày mai sẽ tốt hơn' and Thai 'พรุ่งนี้จะดีกว่า' (Prung-nee ja dee gwaa). I like how some are gentle promises and some read like firm statements. In other regions you get warm variants: Swahili 'Kesho itakuwa bora', Turkish 'Yarın daha iyi olacak', Greek 'Αύριο θα είναι καλύτερα' (Avrio tha einai kalitera), Hebrew 'מחר יהיה טוב יותר' (Machar yihiye tov yoter), and many more. Saying a few of these out loud feels like collecting hope from around the world — small, portable optimism that I tuck into playlists and late-night chats.

Whenever I hear the chorus of 'Here's to Us', I picture those big, sweaty concert nights where the crowd sings every word back at the band. The version most people refer to was written and performed by Halestorm, with Lzzy Hale taking the lead on the songwriting. Their gritty, melodic hard-rock approach gives the track that anthemic lift—it's a toast to surviving and sticking together, and you can hear Lzzy's personality all over the vocal lines and phrasing. I got pulled into the song because it feels both personal and communal, like a campfire song amplified through Marshall stacks. If you dig into Halestorm's catalog, you can trace how 'Here's to Us' fits into their themes of resilience and boldness, and how the live versions add extra fire. That kind of song sticks with me — makes me want to raise a glass and scream the chorus with friends.

I’ve been obsessed with 'Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow' since it hit the shelves, and it’s no surprise everyone’s buzzing about it. The novel was penned by Gabrielle Zevin, an author who’s got this knack for weaving stories that feel both deeply personal and wildly universal. Her writing isn’t just about plot—it’s about the quiet moments, the ones that sneak up and gut you when you least expect it. This book’s popularity isn’t accidental. It taps into something raw and real: the messy, beautiful chaos of creativity and friendship. The way Zevin captures the grind of game development, the thrill of collaboration, and the heartbreak of missed connections? It’s like she bottled lightning. What sets this book apart is how it makes niche worlds feel accessible. Even if you’ve never coded a day in your life, you’ll get swept up in the passion of Sadie and Sam, the two protagonists who build games together. Their dynamic isn’t just about romance or rivalry—it’s about how creativity can both bind people together and tear them apart. Zevin’s prose is crisp but poetic, especially when she digs into themes like disability, identity, and the fleeting nature of success. The way she describes game design as an art form? You’ll start seeing Pac-Man as high literature. And that’s the magic of it: she turns pixels into poetry. Then there’s the nostalgia factor. The book spans decades, from childhood friendships forged in hospital rooms to adulthood’s messy compromises. It’s a love letter to the ’90s and 2000s, packed with references that’ll hit hard if you grew up with Oregon Trail or Super Mario. But even if you didn’t, the emotional beats land just as hard. The book’s popularity isn’t just about gamers—it’s for anyone who’s ever poured their heart into something and wondered if it was worth it. Zevin doesn’t give easy answers, but she makes the asking feel exhilarating.

I live for little detective missions like this — song-credit sleuthing is honestly one of my favourite late-night hobbies. But I need a tiny bit more to be precise: there are multiple songs called 'Dimple' out there, and the writer will depend on which one you mean. If you can tell me the artist, a lyric line, or where you heard it (K-pop, indie, YouTube cover?), I’ll dig up the original lyricist and the official credits for you. In the meantime, here’s how I would track it down quickly: check the official album booklet or single release notes (physical CDs and digital booklets usually list lyricists), look at streaming credit pages (Apple Music and Tidal are good for credits; Spotify lets you view credits by right-clicking a song), and consult rights databases — KOMCA for Korean music, JASRAC for Japanese, ASCAP/BMI for many English-speaking songwriters. Also scan the official music video description on YouTube and the song’s Wikipedia page (useful but double-check with official sources). If you want, drop the exact artist or a lyric snippet and I’ll fetch the name and cite the source for you.

I get why this question trips people up — there’s a bunch of songs with similar titles, so it helps to be specific. If you mean 'Today Was a Good Day', that one’s by Ice Cube (O’Shea Jackson) and it’s his signature laid-back classic about a perfect, rare day. But if you literally mean a track called 'Today Is a Good Day', that title has been used by different indie artists, local bands, and even some commercial jingles, so there isn’t a single obvious songwriter I can point to without more context. When I hunt down credits I usually check the streaming app first — Spotify and Apple Music sometimes list songwriters in the track credits — then cross-check on sites like Genius, Discogs, or the performing rights organizations (ASCAP, BMI, SESAC). I once spent an evening digging up a tiny indie EP’s liner notes on Discogs and found the songwriter listed there; feels like a mini victory each time. If you can drop an artist name, a lyric line, or where you heard it, I’ll happily narrow it down for you.

There are two very different kinds of "craziness" in song lyrics, and when I pit them against each other I end up arguing for both sides at once. On one hand you have brutal, literal shock—songs that read like confessions or short horror stories. Eminem’s 'Stan' is a great example: it’s tight, narrative, and gets under your skin by dragging you into a deeply unstable mind. The imagery and escalation are disturbing because they’re grounded in a believable obsession; that grounded realism makes the lyrics hit harder and feel crazier in a psychological way. On the other hand, John Lennon’s 'I Am the Walrus' is a different strain of lunacy: surreal, playful, and delightfully nonsensical. Lines that bend grammar and logic, thrown together with psychedelic imagery, make your brain go, “what did I just hear?” That kind of craziness is creative chaos—more about evoking feeling than telling a tidy story. So which is crazier? If you mean "which one made me go, ‘Whoa, that’s messed up’?" I’d pick the raw narrative shock of 'Stan.' If you mean "which one made me laugh and tilt my head in bewilderment?" then 'I Am the Walrus' wins. Personally I adore both kinds: one makes my chest tighten, the other makes my imagination run wild, and I’ll happily crawl down both rabbit holes on repeat.

The lyrics for 'Make It a Better Place' were penned by the incredibly talented songwriter and activist, Layla Montgomery. She's known for her work blending social commentary with catchy melodies, and this track is no exception. The song's message about unity and change really resonates with me—it feels like something you'd hear at a protest turned into a festival, where everyone's chanting along. Montgomery has this knack for making complex ideas feel accessible, almost like she's sitting right next to you explaining it over a cup of tea. What I love about her style is how she layers metaphors without losing the emotional punch. Lines like 'build the walls with open hands' stuck with me for days after first hearing it. She’s also collaborated with indie bands like The Hollow Echoes, so if you dig her lyrical style, their album 'Fires in the Dark' might be worth checking out. Honestly, discovering her work felt like finding a secret garden of thoughtful, energizing music.