1. |
|
|||
|
I fell for something she thought hidden.
The oldest of none. The loudest of all and most distant suns.
Scent hounds of fever,
ONCE IN A WHILE A DOG GETS BITTEN.
Oh, hail them all well then!
Restore whatever may hope deterred.
Perfume. (A) perhaps-perspective.
All these darling answers,
our dearest vows she washed away.
Well, she‘s no healer yet.
No offer.
There‘s an oblique and most tiring glance.
I chanced to meet her by the sheer.
One more stitch and you‘re fixed (my dear).
All those shattered selves you choose for me.
I‘ll keep piling up them bells, all that čoček I have danced.
Oh babe they‘ll bomb us in our sleep!
Wired grounds they‘ll fold. You were called to seek.
Who calms the weary and the fatigue?
|
||||
2. |
||||
|
We are dreamt by the heartache of her sleep, brother.
All hands they swallow. All of them rivers led forth and swallowed.
|
||||
3. |
Zikueth! Zikueth!
18:23
|
|||
|
First I‘d pass ‘em by, golden halves of torn off ways.
A thousand choirs abide while her type sadly went astray.
Hours apart from this wreck of a scene;
masses by the worn-out patterned grounds of some new queen.
I used to praise her so far from her shrine,
in these well-lit alleys of promising signs.
Plague birds tout her reign.
Old and just. Asking our dreams to blame.
Pardoned and cured by this far-reaching rain.
Masses by the worn-out alleys of promising signs.
Hours apart from this wreck of a scene;
masses by the worn-out patterned grounds of some new queen.
Causeway waltz. Yearn for me.
Waltz away! Cheers! I stumbled hard.
High priests of woes asking the dice for notions of hope.
For some echo.
Echoes of salt.
The wrong bird has flown.
A show-stone of tears.
I have been bitten by dozens of snakes.
Well. Well then!
Theirs tied to mine.
Their hands. Their rhymes.
Mirror-scaled Rome. The enchantress ONE.
I laughed and cursed. I laughed and cursed.
I sure hoped I‘d still smell her on my breath. We buried our debts in the snow.
Them dearest embraces you sorely withdrew. I feast my eyes upon you, dear.
Pour out pure waters for the worried prestige. A thousand known choirs of doubt and tears.
Guessing ourselves while the wishful decays. Gazing for halyards to ascend someplace else to
PILOT TAKE PILOT TAKE PILOT MY DEAR.
We buried our garden in fear of stones.
Quiet-voiced rumours about drifting ashore.
Abandoning ship as we speak. Still afloat there.
I believe in a truth never considered (she claimed),
steering her face into mine. Take over this broken winged bird.
TAKE PILOT TAKE PILOT TAKE PILOT.
|
||||
4. |
Liefdesgrot
19:23
|
|||
Soldat Hans Winterthur, Switzerland
Soldat Hans is a downtempo folk doom band from Winterthur, Switzerland.
NO RACISM.
NO SEXISM.
NO HOMOPHOBIA.
Soldat Hans recommends:
If you like Soldat Hans, you may also like:
supported by 7 fans who also own “Dress Rehearsal (remastered)”
Incredible sound, ideas. It´s a masterpiece.
go to album
Fluxion (2009 Re-Edition)
by The Ocean
supported by 7 fans who also own “Dress Rehearsal (remastered)”
Entre Fogdiver et FluXion, premier véritable album de The Ocean, c'est le jour et la nuit : le collectif allemand quitte l'île de la lune et met le cap sur l'île du soleil avec un post-hardcore d'envergure épique. FluXion tire toute sa force du contraste : huit personnes au chant — solos, duos, confrontations, chœurs (et les deux dernières pistes sont magistrales de ce côté) — mais des thèmes dystopiques et sinistres. La virtuosité instrumentale côtoie des raz-de-marée. Tout est plus grand !
go to album
Dreamy doom-pop for the spooky season from Seattle's Tylo.
go to album
