Speechwriter

from Anthaupt by Soldat Hans

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lyrics

And we made a mess of it. We slid out of reach. We scarcely spoke of this that day. We fell oh so far from favor. These cloud-led shadows of the blessed (and) sudden blown skies. All lit from within. Never made it up that hill. They covered their mouths with out-of-print pamphlets. She called me her ghost, some mistaken idea of hope. Oh Well, i found it hard to take that some things remain broken. At least once there were promises made. As i scra- ped past these half-scabbed wounds this sweet and promising scent meant to tell what could not be told again. Some fragrance of loss and swept away glitter. Sightly bent blazing stars, they once appeared in shoals of bloom near this episodic perfume river. In spits of rain. So much beauty and no end of wonders. In lieu of flowers we’ll attend each others days with one arm cut and one unhinged. They will disneyficate all that‘s left. And how un- prepared we‘ve always been. At least once there were promises made. This market has outgrown our consent. Another three day fever. Another forthright farrago of lies. I’ve left this earth in their eyes. Tell me, who are you building this for? All torn within this scattered light. There was enough to love to numb my tongue forever. In the end we’ll all be begging for the wolves to pass us by. I would claw the ground to retrieve the warmth of her. This is nothing compared to the pain you left us to deal with. The taste of it never left my mouth. Our promise remained a rather stereotyped apology. In letraset letters you asked for our pardon. Through these caked-up fragments of some desperate narrative we already found what even terrified the most. Our laughter remained a bellowing reminder of some vague reflective pain. Some flower eating audience still echoes these eerie decades of champagne and spiteful regrets. The Third order of glitz. We’ll never lower our eyes to this scene. There will be cadillacs in the sky. There will be things missing. There will be noise. This very flag can‘t be hung upside down to signify distress. We’ll cough up one last speech Against the Meaningless of the cult. ((Ray Charles.)) I’ll keep this to myself. I’ll keep this to myself. We will celebrate. We’ll celebrate this slow decay. Bright lights. Without a gaze of loss, we’ll celebrate this slow decay and wishful worries and nods ; our worries all gone. We’ll celebrate. We made a mess.

credits

from Anthaupt, released April 22, 2022

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Soldat Hans Winterthur, Switzerland

Soldat Hans is a downtempo folk doom band from Winterthur, Switzerland.

NO RACISM.
NO SEXISM.
NO HOMOPHOBIA.

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