1. |
driftwood
03:14
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oh how i wish that i was fuelwood, so for once i was on fire. but right now i'm a thief, a liar. this is a time to bea small, not for passion or desire. strike a match to my skin, let the sparks fly. i will let them in. oh how i wish i still belonged here, so at least for now i had a home. but the aorta ran dry. no blood, no fuel, no poem. oh i would like to be a piece of driftwood floating by accident. sorrows companion has always been a burst a chord on the piano, adorable art. detest the truth and tear apart. let's pretend from today on it won't get worse. it won't get worse. the distant town is calling you. it's time for you to roam. set your sails to leave the shore. if not now, what was it for. sorrows companion has always been a burst a chord on your guitar, adorable art. detest the truth and tear apart. let's pretend from today on it won't get worse. it won't get worse. oh, we might just collide. oh, i would like that. or i'll be part of a causeway. come a day to rest, to stay.
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2. |
golden roots
04:02
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"you make me wanna make my home here!" what thoughtless spirit led to a compulsive confession like that? and what a shame, but i can not be considerate. through the branches and trees, over sticks and stones and golden roots among the wolves, raging along. it's the comfort of being free not to decide at all "i wanna be your second spring, dear." but is my fi rst yet over. am i high, low or lower? and as upright as a liar can be this is how honest i am. we will always be the vagrant. no rest, no plan, no constant. just one way to make this work, just one way through the woods.
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3. |
domino sparrow
03:04
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and all the way down the hardest struggle was to fi nd the right words, the fi tting phrases that won't be missed and found. when i use them as my own. and yes, i came in through the wrong window and i might have torn down some 40.000 walls. i am sorry. today we both feel like kings. but tomorrow, but tomorrow. on the road back home, my son. where's the fi re? where's the passion? draw a portrait you belong to. to the fi re! to the passion in you! what happens in vegas just doesn't seem to stay there it follows you home and crawls right under your bed. what happens in vegas just doesn't seem to stay there it follows you home and crawls right under your skin. cause today we both feel like kings. but in times of war we all fall.
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4. |
an alpine idyll
04:00
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we came, we saw, we lost our minds and went back home. back into the snow and we swore that we'd never leave this vale, grew pale and died of this comforting violence. the warmth of this song is only a cold, cold comfort. imagine being buried on a day like this. the humming earth, like an old chant to your ears. your fears, your grief, just sweep away into the warmth of these songs. and we are hauling our heavy feet through the snow. oh, so severe. oh morning, my mourning. we grew to love the way it hurts, it's our favourite thrill. when all skin is cold, winter's resting. when all skin is shed, winter's resting near.
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5. |
black tongues
02:56
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black is your tongue and the words that you speak are driven by discord. your veins carry no aesthetics, your art is an accident. on your lips a reddish veil, cursing fl aws of your father, your mother, sister, brothers. this tradition knows no candour, we are swinging back and forth and swayingly, we are cherishing our failures. hush, it's alright it's alright it's alright i will pull you through the night drink up drink up i will drive you home in the early rays of light black is your tongue and the crimes you commit are washed up as you sing. our traditions know no candour, we are swinging back and forth.
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6. |
architect vs. avalanche
04:04
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the fire of my youth, put out instantly. we carry vices, and hide them with care, true to the blueprint of the architect. but i still might not win this, i still might not win this. i may plan and construct, made of stone, made of luck, but this air turns to gold, all the shapes that unfold. foundations in between, the divides and the schemes, of grand failures in my design. the beauty of straight lines will endure all the times, will endure all the times. as long as we don't dare we don't leave any traces. but we constantly wonder what our pace is. we took the fears of our fathers and lived them relentless. friends and family, i am anxious. i am anxious. our passion is cryptical to you. we know no distance. all hearts are lukewarm. this was made to melt the avalanche. oh, my passion was cryptical to you. we knew no distance. our hearts be lukewarm. this will be what melts the avalanche.
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7. |
dangerosaurus
02:42
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we are slipping out of focus. and the best that you have got just won't be good enough. are we still curious? do we fast forward? are we still curious? and do we fast forward? in search for something to write home about, it's been so long, this routine will never be the same. we slide down the surface of circumstance. this catastrophe has always been chasing me.
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8. |
circa now
04:45
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and as i'm sure i'll be the fi rst to know that i can't do that. no, i won't do that. never abandoned, never kept, we've never had. we've never slept. for sure, i'll be the fi rst that truly knows you. and when i feel no more and the new treasures are coming and going as they please. just marching won't make the parade. follow your modern day desire. your love is nothing! nothing but the tin man holding on to his new heart. you don't have to scream so loud! tremendous effort, mighty plans and the occasional amusement will make this place an elaborate attraction for the roadside. and just for the roadside. and as you are fi nally giving in, made your speeches, named love a liar, a million seconds are deleted. it's either both of us or no one, nothing in between. from day to day the antagonist changes. everything was so perfectly arranged, you didn't ever feel the need to run. and with all violence i'm trying to hide the presence of my heart. but while i was fi ghting birds and foxes, we lost track of everything. while i was fi ghting birds and foxes, we lost track. when the monolith of a century comes down, i will make it my quest to be the fi rst to get crushed, tired of talking and talking. i take a bow, hold my tongue and fade out slow. if it wasn't for growing up, it wouldn't be so hard to stop. and it should happen circa now and this delay is just too polite. still rising tension on all pages, but giants on fi re fall back to sleep.
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9. |
pioneers
03:10
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we span the riverbed below and recommend you places we don't know we make the mightiest call to arms and grace you all with good luck charms we take the tides from shore to shore, all the banalities we fought for. i build a house in storms and sea and wait for the catastrophe. i found the key to infi nity! oh, what a waste, there's not enough to see. as all the amplifi ers blare, you keep your volume. and i, i'll take the mute. and yeah, this city is my playground, with all its slides and swings and falls the fever drives me through the valley, it's like a rush, a mountain tall. and by the night i am a pioneer, when all the screens light up the sky. light up the sky.
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10. |
punkt.aus?ende!
04:15
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every high is condemned by a low, followed by a cheer for the attempt. and everything starts over. and i surely don't deserve this. but a draft is draft, despite all the purpose that it lacks. it still does give us something back. solitude is crime, but the foundation of this town. if everyone would be like me, who could still enjoy this place? not talking ‚bout the air to breathe, the ice is getting thin. for all these little details, you have to mind these days. believe in all those words and all this recklessness of all the idiots that still care about their singularity. that rests quite precious and sheltered in the showcase, until it knows no more, than being here at all time. if i could run headless, i'd at least not raise the voice that i want to be heard if i still had belief, that i want to be heard if i still had belief. vertrauen auf die worte und die rücksichtslosigkeit all der idioten die sich sorgen, um ihre einzigartigkeit. punkt, aus, ende! niemals ich! jedes wort beschreibt einen vorgang, der immer anders ist. nichts ist gut, nichts ist schlecht. weil alles stimmt wie ich es will, du es sieht und dir denkst: "hab ich alles schon erlebt. alles schon erlebt!"
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