all lyrics by Xavier Presser, except “On The Rocks” by Christoph Knaut
walking on flares of light through the void, yet I can breathe again. stranded in outer space, far away, I’ll figure out a plan to track down time. she’s turned her back on me. please listen, I’m out of strategies. moving on this sphere at this velocity, I’m afraid I’m following the shade of what I used to be… of what I am. I’m slowing down my pace, green prairies as far as the eye can see. one desolate willow tree is luring me into recovery. I’m dreaming of time and how she smiles at me. I’m taming my need of feeling free.
take a look at your furniture. its petty smile spits at your face while it dares you:
– i was here before you
– don’t be ridiculous, I made this a home
– your room is stacked upon others, well ordered and accuratetly filed
– what if I’d set you on fire, proving I always can choose…and change
– didn’t see that one come
someone told him to leave, so he left all behind. without any belongings, he traveled through seasons towards a stunning encounter; never able to reach the end of the line. he tries his best to level out and tries hard to evolve, knowing there is still nothing he can do. he has seen cities of glass where no shadow is cast. and none of the places is stained with memories. but he keeps painting the walls in colours he used to love (missing the chill breath of coincidence). he waits for the moon, his heart craving for shelter, his body filled with anticipation. „what makes my dreams more important than yours ? however, I swear I’ll run you over if they collide“. eager to discover some kaleidoscope future, knowing it is foolish to believe in (knowing there is still nothing he can do).
please help me up ! I’m on my knees, drowned by a rushing crowd. my hands are fumbling for some detail, crushed beneath their feet. now everything seems futile even the gaze into your eyes. don’t bug me, I focus on preventing this moment from becoming a memory. I try to freeze time and make it last. I am the very leaf that keeps eluding the ground, swirling through the air like a fleeting melody. there’s dust on the window, i am still guessing what may lie beyond. I am free to choose what I perceive. every object, every person is reduced to a blurry shape. I hold on to the idea I can manipulate their form. I try hard to declare truth as a lie. suddenly your eyes disappear, the rapture of my illusion fades away. perhaps watching a leaf on its journey through the sky is beautiful because you’re certain it will hit the ground. the presentiment of disappointment makes it intriguing.
About The Painter And The Insane
the doors are closing right now. i barely squeeze in. sweaty skin. i let myself sink onto the bench at close quarters with a black man. next to him: a business man. the older woman in front of him peeks. stands up. asks him: could i have a look at your tv mag ? peering puzzled through his glasses, a friendly smile appears, wafts through the wagon. everybody’s smiling. she was laughing. i was celebrating. in my head. silent cheers. the black man told me to move a bit over, so that she could sit down. every wrinkle translates her very joy of a quite young guy being so gentle. how could she thank him for killing her time tonight ? one compartement full of all the harmony you could imagine. is this kind of exagerated ? peace built on such a derisory simple thing. is this kind of farcical ? if you know what it means to feel secure with strangers, you’ve the impression you could do anything. for once the world was a stage and the play was well cast.
wallet full of time
i close my wallet full of time. time i buried under my finicky pressed chemises. time lost in moments when unuttered words let remain our meagre field of conversation in its desolate state. the distance between here and my place is not the one that separates us. when goodbye approaches, you’ll say the dogs are gonna miss me. „bon voyage, our son“. i know our little tale could have a happy end. someday i’m going to write it down. i guess that you still love me, but your dogs are more important. i close my wallet full of time. time i buried under my well ordered files. time spent on elaborating plans. planing to leave all behind. leaving with the aim to become deaf for „someday“. but i won’t dare. and i won’t dare to talk to you again, if i’ll still be unable to share with you the remains of dried up earth. oh, i have to come back home. the strangers i looked for could be you, dear relatives.
the missing weights
look at these fingertips. crooked. how many faces must they touch to feel comfort ? how many landscapes must they draw to feel home ? how many hugs must they refuse to feel cared about ? show me the balance that evaluates our feelings. what a beautiful breakdown caused by missing weights. how to schedule without a plan ? we do the first steps at every yard. learn how wayside-crosses can confuse. learn how your head cheats on your instinct. learn that it’s the brick that builds the house.
hope gave birth to a car made of interwoven plants. rumbling and bouncing it made its way through the desert, ignoring the threatening heat of the sun. i’m the driver although i’m a passenger, glaring delighted at my ticket, totally captured by this absurd travel. i’ve always wanted to look through these chlorophyll windows. watching colorful icicle animals play with fluffy clouds, performing a dance in veneration of the flaws of perfection. i wander through wide arcades. everything i’ve experienced is stored beside in dusty shelves. it all feels so unfamiliar although it belongs to me.
on the rocks
i knew it from this very morning. no more pleas and dull excuses. hey, everyone ! this is a warning. start to live and stop your abuses ’cause life won’t wait for you long. you should enjoy every day. don’t waste and throw your life away. stop diluting it with absurd bunk. so if you wanna seriously get drunk. take it on the rocks. the day will come when you sit there and melodies will fill the air. the sirenes of drink will sing their song. but only the rocks will make you strong.
short cup meeting
tear catchy lines out. breath out you doubt. wisdom spreads out like hugs. convulsing our tiny apartement. and all the cuttlery starts to rust. do you ever have… of course you don’t. for a lifelong meeting the cup’s too short. the floor’s so narrow. just like your throat as soon as the party’s over. discrepancy between our saddest thought, a naive smile, the girl we saw. look at my crayons. their colour’s lost. spicy cries spoiled our meal. so long ! i’m grateful with bread and trust. refill my glass woe if i leave.
from mountains to sea
i’m on the run through a smart city, avoiding all the chains that could fix me. a sharp-cut red planet fused on the callous horizon blinds me, hindering my avaricious eyes from discerning beauty. we’re living science-fiction right now. i’m at hunt for a rythm leading my journey from mountains to sea. flickering lights brand my chest with satisfaction. i abandon everthing and choose lonelyness. the juvenile euphoria makes me forget the taste of sweat running down my face. we’re living in exile every day. deedless i’m waiting for a rythm leading my journey from mountains to sea. sometimes there is no use for talk, you just rip it off. sometimes there’s no use for keeping the whole, you cut away the rotten parts. i move on the edge, changing direction just as often as the sea changes it’s mood. my behavior is as steady as a mountain. do what you want to, but spare me your eulogy of the glorious average.
i swim through badlands, three shadows of myself closing in on me. they keep talking down to themselves, while a tone sounds from afar. a mixture of farina and eggs pastes over my mouth. the coffee is too hot, the wall splinters the cup. the telephone rings, the wall splinters the phone. i wonder what’s underneath the wall paper and my hands tear it down. i am not bruised, i am not proud. why can’t you stop annoying me. i am not sure, i have no doubt. i can’t stop annoying me.
hall of mirrors
let me know when you can forget. let me know when the drawings are fading away. our portraits
won’t show us the truth. standing in my throne room i realize: i am king of a hall of
mirrors. growing out of nowhere, clover covers the glass, reminding me of mellow coloured
days. times when i could sit by the lake, looking into my own eyes. i’m dancing for my
own amusement, i painted all these portraits. my lucid mind became a prison. while i
challenge myself i realize, the wish of being unique is its deep-seated foundation. tell
me when you can forget. tell me when the drawings are fading away.
the sun is setting and i’m awake for hours. i slowly put on my clothes as a carressing breeze disperses sand in my room. with an effortless wave of my hand i try to remove it from the cushions, but i know it will take its time to disappear. everything’s so worn down, for how long have i gone astray ? with mature regard i walk down the streets and try to sense a place to start. the veil between now and then grows too fast. with the objective of buying poisonous courage i’m heading towards a shop, but as i get aware of it i realize the charm vanished. and again, i feel this warm breeze. it spills my past all over the streets. i take off my shoes and walk through the sand, knowing it will disappear soon. everything is mine, as long as i feel up to sharing. it all feels like our end. it still feels like a start.