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2. |
Confessional Of Hearts
04:13
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Like a newly struck medal
The full moon spread its rays,
And the dark night streamed
Like a river over sleeping Paris.
Cats passed by with ears pricked up,
Like beloved shades.
From you, till then as joyful as a peal
Of trumpets on a sparkling morn,
A cry so plaintive that it seemed unreal,
Was staggeringly torn.
"That naught is certain here below,
That always, though it paint its face
With utmost care
Man's selfishness reveals itself,
That it's a hard calling
To be a lovely woman,
And that it is the banal task
Of the cold and silly danseuse
Fainting With a mechanical smile,
That to build on hearts is a foolish thing,
That all things break, love, and beauty,
Till Oblivion tosses them into his dosser
To give them back to Eternity!"
A medal, newly-coined, of flashing silver,
The full moon shone. The night was old.
Its solemn grandeur, like a mighty river,
Through sleeping Paris softly rolled.
From you, till then as joyful as a peal
Of trumpets on a sparkling morn,
A cry so plaintive that it seemed unreal,
Was staggeringly torn.
"That nothing in this world is certain,
And human egotism is the thing
Which all existence serves to curtain.
That it's an irksome task to be a beauty,
A boring job one has to face —
Like frigid dancers, smiling as a duty
With hard, mechanical grimace:
That building upon hearts is idiotic:
All cracks, love, beauty, and fraternity
Until Oblivion puts them in his pocket
To pawn them on to old Eternity!"
I often have recalled that moon of magic,
That languid hush on quays and marts,
And then this confidence, so grim and tragic,
In the confessional of hearts.
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3. |
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4. |
Hounded Beauty
03:20
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You hounded beauty.
And I am a victim
Victim of your cruelty!
Do I know from where your boredom stems.
When you mourn out in the night?
A thug who resembled
My love came to meet
And the look he gave me
Made me lower my eyes in shame
You hounded beauty.
And I am a victim
Victim of your cruelty!
Do I know from where your boredom stems.
When you mourn out in the night?
It was his inhuman eyes
The scar on his bare neck
your unfaithful shadows
Made me so unhappy
You hounded beauty.
And I am a victim
Victim of your cruelty!
Do I know from where your boredom stems.
When you mourn out in the night?
The sharpness of the knife
The red rose of your life
The lilies of your face
The last beat of your heart
You hounded beauty.
And I am a victim
Victim of your cruelty!
Do I know from where your boredom stems.
When you mourn out in the night?
To G. Apollinaire
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5. |
Kartuschen in Evfonija
01:58
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7. |
Nebula
03:14
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Keep them eyes locked on the clock today
Chase the seconds that escape
Guess I missed another day
Keep my nose broke, as it should be, I just like the flow
Keep me warm with my own blood, it´s a questionable way to grow
Anyway that´s what I hear, from my inner child too loud
Keep her inside, yeah let her run wild in his black cloud
I keep all of the wrong things, I am bound to my mistakes
Like the post-it note, in the cubicle remain
Anyway that´s what I hear, when I finally ask for help
Keep my eyes locked on this old clock, until time fade away
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8. |
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9. |
Unterwasserstation
02:34
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11. |
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12. |
Where Gone Where
01:28
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Where gone where?
R u dead?
Where gone where?
This beclouded soul
Where gone where
No orange fireflies
Where gone where
In this clouded sky
Oh, dear, I waited for so long, but what for?
Traversing the mirror for some mistimed cadaver
Where gone where
Hung-up with veins too short
Where gone where
This beclouded soul
Where gone where
Where’s my endorphins
Where gone where
For my beclouded soul
Oh, dear, I waited for so long, but what for?
Traversing the mirror for some mistimed cadaver
Where gone where?
R u dead?
Where gone where?
This beclouded soul
Where gone where
No orange fireflies
Where gone where
In this clouded sky
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dhatūrā records Grenoble, France
Experimental, electronic, ambient, atmospheric... whatever music that paves its way out of the usual trail.
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