1. |
Shaping the light
01:46
|
|||
The trees are shaping
the light on your wall,
it’s kind of moving,
after all,
it reminds you of the days
when the sea…
The sea was shaking
your fragile little boat
still, you were cruising
with a note
found in a dream-like place.
The trees are shaping
the light on your wall.
Dreams are taking
your life to the ball.
|
||||
2. |
The moon-eyed lion
01:36
|
|||
The moon-eyed lion visited the town,
a young boy saw her only,
wandering around
the streets, he felt a new sensation…
Tremblig knees, heart so excited,
and above the broken chimneys
there she was, sighted.
The moon-eyed lion, looking gently down
straight at the young boy
from the town
„he has too much imagination”
said the parents to the school headmaster,
who suggested no more presents
to avoid disaster..
The moon-eyed lion left the town,
the young boy saw her only,
sadly spellbound,
he wondered of/wandered off his destination.
|
||||
3. |
Fine time travel
03:20
|
|||
You may travel back in time
to visit long lost scenes of joy,
to revive some reveries
when the blues got you, oh boy.
You don’t need a time machine,
there are finer ways to employ:
pick a song that used to be
the anthem of your love, oh boy.
Close your eyes and slowly
dive into that strange alloy
of fading pictures, tunes and scents,
have a genuine time, oh boy.
You may travel back in time
to visit long lost scenes of joy,
but time can’t pay your visit back,
do not fool yourself, oh boy.
|
||||
4. |
Feel again
01:23
|
|||
She knows what she feels,
she knows what she wants.
He knows what he doesn’t feel,
and it doesn’t feel right,
only good.
She would like to belong,
she would like to be there.
He would like to be wrong,
and he isn’t strong now,
only would
like to
feel again and burn and
feel again and burn that
he knows what she feels,
he knows what she wants.
She knows what he doesn’t feel,
and it doesn’t feel good
every night…
|
||||
5. |
Crazy and wrinkled
01:50
|
|||
If only You were
a bit much uglier,
or at least not funny at all…
would I like You more
after some amateur plastic surgery?
If only You were
much more mediocre,
or at least not crazy at all…
would I like You more
after some wit-wrecking brainwash?
If only You were
just a bit more wrinkled,
I would find it easier to fall
in love more,
more in love
with a
gorgeous, witty, crazy girl
like You.
|
||||
6. |
||||
A goldfinch landed on my window sill,
wanted perhaps to see the new neighbour;
a robin soon joined the goldfinch, and said:
„He looks moderately mad.”
(I took it as a compliment)
„True”, replied the goldfinch and flew
away, the robin followed suit.
„Pleased to meet you” said I,
the new neighbour, who can’t fly.
The chestnut trees know how I feel,
but it doesn’t make me sad,
only moderately mad.
(The next morning)
The goldfinch landed on my writing desk,
wanted perhaps to hear the new neighbour;
the robin soon joined the goldfinch, and said:
„He sounds moderately mad”
(I took it as a compliment)
„Pleased to meet you”, I heard,
in their own tune and word.
The chestnut trees know how I feel,
and it makes me absolutely glad,
plus moderately mad.
|
||||
7. |
Turning things on
01:46
|
|||
Sit down, think of Her,
turn imagination on,
set out for the dear,
and buy a delicate kiss
as a souvenir.
Stand up, dress for Her,
turn the record player on,
set out for the chance,
and bring her lovely feet
over for a dance.
The other parts of her body
will be there as well, of course,
some drifting beautifully,
beautiful, off course...
[and the crickets]
Wake up, look for Her,
turn the sandwich toaster on,
set out for marriage,
and see if -against all expectations-
you can manage.
|
||||
8. |
True or false
02:18
|
|||
True or false,
conscience calls,
it doesn’t say,
oh yes, it does.
True or false,
the answer falls,
it doesn’t hurt,
oh yes, it does.
Trying to match all the letters
to pictures on drum-beating walls.
True or false,
conscience calls,
it doesn’t say,
oh yes, it does.
Trying to match all the letters
to pictures on drum-beating walls.
Trying to catch all the meaning
of letters waiting to be calls.
|
||||
9. |
||||
Where are You going?
Could I come with You?
Do You know that place
where the moments are days?
Where are we going?
I shall not tell You
till the stars are asleep,
till the blue turns so deep
that I won’t see You blush,
but I hope that You will,
in that beautiful place
where the moments are days.
What are we doing?
Could we turn back now?
I can see what You’ve built
from desire and guilt.
Where are You going?
I won’t come with You
to that beautiful place
where the moments are days.
|
||||
10. |
Song to a story
02:33
|
|||
Please don’t turn yourself
the other way now,
I have visualised too much
of how it would be
to see her
as near as she can be.
Please don’t end yourself
in such a way now,
that only songs will stay to tell
of how it could be
to see her
as dear as she can be.
Please show me yourself
based on a true you now,
and mock my imagination
of how it would be
to see her
as here as she can be.
|
||||
11. |
||||
You may travel back in time
to visit long lost scenes of joy,
to revive some reveries
when the blues got you, oh boy.
You don’t need a time machine,
there are finer ways to employ:
pick a song that used to be
the anthem of your love, oh boy.
Close your eyes and slowly
dive into that strange alloy
of fading pictures, tunes and scents,
have a genuine time, oh boy.
You may travel back in time
to visit long lost scenes of joy,
but time can’t pay your visit back,
do not fool yourself, oh boy.
|
Bardócz L. Csaba Keszthely, Hungary
Bardócz L. Csaba derűs-boros-tücskös-holdas-tündéres-felhős-szíves-szédülős-tükrös-csavaros-teás-angyalos dalokat
ír.
Gitárra kitárva.
Vonaton, kávézóban, kanapén, padon, felhőn. Pardon.
Magyarul, angolul.
Mikor elkezd írni, ő is kíváncsian várja, mi lesz a vége.
Mikor már tudja, hogy mi, szívesen előadja.
A dalok között és után örömmel beszélget.
Fotó-báj:
Ungor Richárd
... more
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