The 48-page booklet includes all the lyrics, 4 colourful digitally handcrafted illustrations for every song and comes in a cardboard slipcase.It also contains at least four typos that will make this first edition item a certain bestseller on ebay in about 50 years time. Limited edition of 100.
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Silence is required, Mr. Death sleeps by my side
I’m not sure about my actions, I don’t know about last night,
Normally I’m not the kind of guy to take him home,
I wonder, will he stay for breakfast - I'd rather be alone...
O yesterday could’ve - neatly played - put things to a good start,
The night was clear, the stars were high, as was my need for love,
The full moon cleansed the darkened path of mist and fear and fright,
My zoot was tight, my shoes shone bright as I walked into the night.
But as always things did differ from my mortal expectation,
That's so strictly bound in borders of profanity,
But they were subject to severe misinformation,
As I had an encounter with epiphany.
He stood beneath a willow, with a black suit and a scythe
That leaned against the tree trunk, yet he was weeping like a child.
I said: ‘Why are you crying? Is there something I can do?’
But he replied ‘My son, there’s nothing, I do weep for you.
For the greater might of chance has put you upmost on my scroll,
So no mattering to flattering, straight the edge and rock’n’roll.
But in utter recognition of you asking for my pain,
You may sense the scent of life for this one night again.’
O yesterday, where is your sting? Tomorrow, thine sweet balm?
The ever-dawning prospect when another has gone wrong?
But dignity and countenance - I learned it from a picture -
Are assets, quintessential to the metaphysic fixture.
So I hooked onto his look, raised an eyebrow and then said:
‘You dare come up to my threshold, but you dare not go ahead?
Diagnosis: You’re haphazard, you’re sadistic but alone,
So let me introduce you to the civilized art of oblivion.’
So I went for a drink with the Reaper
And after a couple more he was not so grim - anymore
Yes I went for a drink with the reaper
And now he’s sleeping by my side, my ass is sore.
Lethe, you’re the dead man’s drink
Veil us into rapturous shade
Occlude the sickening sun of things
And cloud the mind that can’t be saved
Lethe, you’re the lucent trail
You’re the fog and you’re eclipse
Descend upon our shadow realm
And cast oblivion in our midst
Lethe you’re the remedy
You’re the rain to wash us dry
And the blissful storm that blows
Our deeds off in the night
You’re the heavens’ fronds and vines
You’re the blessing and the bane
But Lethe, you are fortune’s bride,
Reluctant to remain.
- On with the game.
So I was in bed with the Reaper,
But picture my relief: he was not gonna reap - anymore
So I was in bed with the Reaper,
And now it’s tango in my head, my ass is sore.
credits
from Stowaway,
released October 20, 2013
Written & composed, performed & produced by Georg Tkalec.
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