1. |
Another hole in my heart
04:54
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Why settle for less when there can be more?
Why accept an ending and not ask for an encore?
Let me seek comfort and an illusion of control,
poison or a lie, to soothe my tormented soul.
There is no heaven, no hell and no one will command their angels
concerning you to guard you carefully.
Childhood's magic it is gone
and no single man can mend this wound
no healer
no seer
There's another hole in my heart
a window for the world to shine it's searing light inside
and tear my soul apart
There's another way to make this wound heal
Come let me show you
what beauty in the world I adore
we can do wonders,
but not based on ancient lore
Let me find acceptance
for the things I can't control
Sometimes I must cry, to soothe my tormented soul
Do we need heaven do we need spirits, fairies, sentient water
should we not rather seek each other?
Feel real love while we still can
and learn to live with the pain.
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2. |
Mont Pelerin
04:50
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A vanguard of freedom
gathering around the hill
A pilgrimage of wise men
weaving spells of liberty
To the barricades
on the road to serfdom
Nobody is qualified
to wield limitless power
Where there is authority
there can be no freedom
there can be no freedom
there can be no liberty
Disciples trickled down
like they were gold that they had made
but that can never form a crown.
Yet they forged mighty chains
and sold them to the crowd.
And they are the new - and the old - freedom.
The supreme principle must not be sacrificed.
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3. |
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In the mist I dwell
in shadows I revel
In weariness I fell
what can I call this place but hell?
I am facing the decay but
the final act I've yet to play.
Will there only be dismay?
And we shall savour every day...
can we savour every day?
We can be like they are
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4. |
Branches
06:04
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Withered leaves floating on the lake
spring has just begun to roam the meadows.
The branches they have left behind,
hidden from the sun,
contorted by the flight from the shadows.
Walls and a roof, built for its protection
Not to shield off the light, but everything has its price.
The lake is an oasis
in this dreary wasteland
and on good days its shiny surface
helps some beams bypass the roof.
How mighty that tree could have grown elsewhere
but cutting off the roots doesn't work without torment.
Hold my hand while I cry about all the
branches that I did not let grow,
that I cut off
never to allow them to bear any fruit
never chosen
never appointed
to bear fruit
I'm standing by a lake,
watching my reflection,
yellow leaves drift along,
ripples blur my face.
Memories emerge,
tiny whirls from wind or current.
Some try to pull me down,
some are gone without a trace.
If I let them grow,
I know they might consume me.
But when the undertow is strong,
I don't always have that choice.
No choice.
If I could let go,
they could never subdue me.
But I don't always know a song to bleed them out into my voice.
Always is not today,
words and notes pour out of me.
The lake overflows, washing the desert away.
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Convolution Mainz, Germany
Studio project (online collaboration) comprised of artists from Germany and France. Only free open source software is used for production.
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