Pretty interesting... Quite unique and crazy opening. I like how you do use the disharmonie followed by very nice piano.

Love the instrumental, teach me [via https://sc.repostexchange.com]

Interesting song - takes the listener to interesting and varied places and moods.

I really enjoy how smooth and chill this is

crazy opening. The whole song sounds very unique. I can't say which genre fits. But there are so many nice "eastereggs" to discover Great Song

작곡/작사/편곡(Music and Write and Arrangement): 전우석 (Wooseok Jeon)
기타 연주자(Guitar Player): Florian Davila Samanez
사랑이 사라지면 이런 느낌이 오지 않을까 싶다. (I wonder if this kind of feeling will come when love disappears.)

가사 (Lyrics):
보고픈 마음 가눌 수 없어
하얗게 부서지는 꽃가루 되어
영문도 모르는 채
쳇바퀴 돌 듯 끝이 없는 방황에
긴 작별인사

잡힐 듯 말 듯 멀어져가는
가슴깊이 남은 건 때 늦은 후회
헤어지려고 할 때 그제서야
내 곁을 떠나가던 날 가슴에 품었던
긴 작별인사

I can't control my longing to see, I become white, crumbling pollen, without even knowing, to the endless wandering, the long goodbye

When the remaining cases seems to say seemed to go deep chest away when caught trying to break up later regret had me in the chest on her way to leave my side, the long goodbye

거실 (The Living Room)

The Long Goodbye

긴 작별인사 (The Long Goodbye)

Introduction in English:

A good thirty years ago I had a partner who had strict Catholic parents. She had four brothers who married in the strict Catholic spirit during the time we were together. 
I loved the free, unbridled, wild dancing at that time. But at those weddings, any passion was contained in a rigid religious call-and-dance ceremonial.   
My "salvation" was Bosza, a Croatian woman overflowing with warmth, cordiality and impetuous liveliness. She was the wife of my then partner's uncle, who himself had fled to Berlin decades ago from the all-suppressing Catholic morality.
And with Bosza I danced half the night away at the weddings. Most people hated us for it. But we were passionate soul mates.
After I separated from my former partner, I lost sight of Bosza for the last ten years. 
Until I received a year ago over a brother of my ex-partner by WhatsApp the message that Bosza had died with not even seventy years. 
When I received this news, I had to cry spontaneously. And out of this sadness, but also out of gratitude for the great living time together at the otherwise dead weddings, this tribute to this wonderful woman was created. A woman who burned from both ends of the candle, and like most who do, do not grow very old.

Lyrics (for those, who don`t speak German)

Bosza

Shaved grass
Orgies of order in excess

Everything symmetrical
The cleanliness fetish

The compulsive cult replaces pleasure and fun

I come there to such a festival
Where they leave farts in gold seals

On the dance floors brooms
Heart-decored straw creatures

The atmosphere is arctic chilled

There you just jumped in brazenly
Loud, exuberant and soft

Created a little warmth niche
In this enchanted ice princess realm

Oh Bosza, Oh Bosza, Oh Bosza
You Know!

Fish grette leftovers at the cat table
On my lap a spoiled quiche

The life in bottles
With permanent stop tabs

The children are domesticated

The meeting train on a railway track
On which is written "Untraceable travelled"

No door handles
The eye salute empty

A glass bell lies on the sea of people

Through you came healing cracks
The gowns mutated into a dress
Stock fishes began to wag
The mood of forbiddance deflated

Ooh Bosza, Ooh Bosza, Ooh Bosza
You know!

Deutscher Originaltext:

Bosza

Kahlgeschorenes Gras
Ordnungsorgien im Übermaß

Alles symmetrisch
Der Sauberkeitsfetisch

Der Zwangskult ersetzt Lust und Spaß

Komme dort auf so ein Fest
Auf dem man Fürze in Goldplomben lässt

Auf den Tanzflächen Besen
Herzentkernte Stroh-Wesen

Die Atmosphäre ist arktisch gekühlt

Da bist Du einfach dreist reingesprungen
laut, überbordend und weich

Schufst eine kleine Wärmenische
In diesem verwunschenen Eisprinzessinnen-Reich

Oh Bosza, Oh Bosza, Oh Bosza
You Know!

Fischgreten-Reste am Katzentisch
Auf meinem Schoß ne' verdorbene Quiche

Das Leben in Flaschen
Mit Dauerstop-Laschen

Die Kinder sind domestiziert

Der Begegnungszug auf einem Gleis
Auf dem steht „Unauffindbar verreist“

Keine Türklinken
Der Augengruß leer

Eine Glasglocke liegt auf dem Menschenmeer

Durch Dich kamen heilsame Risse
Die Talare mutierten zum Kleid
Stockfische begannen zu wedeln
Die Stimmung von Verboten entbleit

Ooh Bosza, Ooh Bosza, Ooh Bosza
You know!

Bosza

Boza

Introduction in English:

In my late 30s, I still suffered from frequent anxiety and panic attacks. During this time, I had a recurring nightmare: I am lying in my bed at night. Some dark, strange figure comes into my room. It slowly comes closer to me. Before it reaches me, I wake up screaming and drenched in sweat.  
One day my female psychoanalyst encouraged me to relive this dream with her company. Like a fairy godmother, she now sat in my imagination at the edge of my bed and held my hand. Thus I succeeded in letting the dark figure come closer. And at some point the strange being stood in front of me and I could look him directly in the face. And suddenly it became clear to me that it is the death which stands beside me; which probably always stood beside me and also always will stand beside me: My eternal companion. 
Since these sessions, panic attacks and anxiety attacks occur very rarely. And when they do come, I now know that it is basically my residual fear of finitude, of having to die, and finally of death. And from this realization, I can feel all the more in all my depths the legendary sentence of Sigmund Freud: "If you want to live well, prepare yourself early for death". The song "Finitude" was written against the background of these experiences It is in French, because for me this language comes closest to such existential themes.

Lyrics in English (for those, who don`t speak French):

Finitude

I have no time 
Finitude
Stands in my door
And speaks to me:

Come on go 

Don't stand still
Let no more time pass

The clock is ticking away 
Your shadow wins
Decay haunts you
Pain and anguish

But you are not alone 
The duty to die
Is the bond 

That unites us 
Whether rich or poor 
Wise or foolish

Death doesn't care
He takes us to himself

Finitude
I am ready
Look at you
You move closer to me

Till you're all there with me 

Look around me 
Many backs already crooked
The rollator goes ahead
Straight to the cemetery gate

The lifting only lasts 
Until the next tower clock

Then it comes out

That we melt 
We blow in the wind
Nothing of us remains 
Death rubs its hands

But do not forget
The duty to die 
Is the bond

That unites us 
Whether rich or poor 
Wise or foolish

Death does not care
He takes us to himself

Finitude
I am ready
Look at you
You move closer to me

Till you're all with me 
Until you are
Until you are 
Untill you are
Completely with me

Texte en français:

Finitude

Je n'ai pas le temps 
La finitude
Est à ma porte
Et me parle:

Allez, vas-y 
Ne t'arrête pas
Ne laisse plus passer le temps

L'horloge s'écoule 
Ton ombre gagne
Le déclin te hante
Douleur et tourment

Mais tu n'es pas seul 
Le devoir de mourir
Est le lien 

Qui nous unit 
Riche ou pauvre 
Intelligents ou idiots

La mort c'est pareil
Elle nous fait venir

Finitude
Je suis prêt
Je te regarde
Tu te rapproches de moi

Jusqu'à ce que tu sois 
Tout à fait avec moi 

Je regarde autour de moi 
Beaucoup de dos déjà courbés
Le rollateur va devant
Directement à la porte du cimetière

Le lifting ne dure que 
Jusqu'à la prochaine horloge de la tour

Puis il se révèle

Que nous passons 
Emportés par le vent
Qu'il ne reste rien de nous 
Que la mort se frotte les mains

Mais n'oublie pas
Le devoir de mourir 
Est le lien

Qui nous unit 
Riche ou pauvre 
Intelligents ou idiots

La mort c'est pareil
Elle nous fait venir

Finitude
Je suis prêt
Je te regarde
Tu te rapproches de moi

Jusqu'à ce que tu sois 
Tout à fait avec moi
Jusqu'à ce que tu sois
Jusqu'à ce que tu sois 
Jusqu'à ce que tu sois
Tout à fait avec moi

Finitude

Introduction in English:

Recently I met a friend who spent a month in Crete earlier this year. 
As he told me about his wanderings there, I again remembered a drastic experience I had during my stay in Crete thirty years ago. 
During my expeditions through the bare Cretan mountains at that time, I met a young man who had been living in a cave for some time, completely isolated from the world. 
We walked together for a while. He told me that he suffered from psychotic delusions with inner voices torturing him. 
The secluded life here in the mountains would help him to deal with these powerful and alienating voices. 
Nevertheless, he longed so much for a release from this "voice terror". 
When I wanted to visit him again the next day, he was nowhere to be found. 
In all these years I thought of him from time to time, especially since I also meet people here in Berlin again and again who suffer from similar psychotic confusions. 
With this song I try to put myself in the place of these people who suffer so terribly and are still largely misunderstood

Lyrics (for those, who don`t speak German)

Voices in the head

Voices in the head
Eat me up

Controlling me
Beat on me

Persecute me, torture me
Incapacitate me
Condemn, despise, devalue, laugh at me 
They make me down, drive into all my limbs

Are always there, invade me
Come when they want, never leave me alone

Come through the walls, no wall can stop them

Hate, shun, move masses of vengeance 
They cause me pain with relish, they light stigma-candles inside me

I've made up my mind 
I'll be calm, because I know I can free myself from you
Yes, I can free myself from you!

The last thing I have left is to lay a hand on myself.
With my dying, I'll give you my last escort.

Then I'll cast you off like a garment of shadows

Your blasphemies, your bullying, your poison, your envy

Flow with the water and the blood from me
Disappears in the drain, far away from here

Emasculated sadists, coreless egoists, seedless fascists, 
You all can't nestle in me anymore

Float away
You stay behind

Your power is now completely null and void
A hollow space remains unnamed

I now lie in my hand

Deutscher Originaltext:

Stimmen im Kopf

Stimmen im Kopf
Fressen mich auf

Bestimmen über mich
Schlagen auf mich drauf

Verfolgen, Foltern mich
Entmündigen mich
Verurteilen, verachten, entwerten, verlachen, 
Machen mich nieder, fahr`n in all meine Glieder

Sind immer da, dringen in mich ein
Kommen wann sie wollen, lassen mich nie allein

Kommen durch die Wände, Keine Mauer halt sie auf

hassen, schassen, bewegen Rachemassen, 
Bereiten lustvoll Schmerzen, Entzünden in mir Wundmal-Kerzen

Ich hab’ mich entschieden, 
Ich werde ruhig, weil ich weiß, ich kann mich von Euch befreien
Ja ich kann mich von Euch befreien!

Das letzte was mir bleibt, ist, Hand an mich zu legen
Mit meinem Freitod gebe ich Euch letztes Geleit

Dann leg’ ich Euch ab wie ein Schatten-Kleid

Euer Lästern, Euer Stänkern, Euer Gift, Euren Neid

Fließt mit dem Wasser und dem Blut aus mir
Entschwindet im Abfluß, weit weg von hier

Entmannte Sadisten, Entkernte Egoisten, Samenlose Faschisten, 
Ihr könnt’ Euch alle nicht mehr in mir einnisten

Schwebe hinüber
Ihr bleibt zurück

Eure Macht ist nun ganz und gar null und nichtig
Zurück bleibt ein Hohlraum unbenannt

Ich lieg jetzt in meiner Hand

Stimmen im Kopf (Voices in the Head)

Stimmen Im Kopf (Voices In The Head)

침대 밑에서

The Foot Of The Bed (Hyperpop Version)

The Foot Of The Bed (Hyperpop Remix)

침대 밑에서
물좀주소 물좀주소
하룻밤 지나서 저 초가집 안에
끝 끝없는 바람

침대 밑에서
저 넓은 정원 뒤를 잇는 장미 꽃밭
하루아침 눈을 뜨니
장막을 걷어라

침대 밑에서
밀리는 파도의 끝이 없는 소리여
주머니 손에 넣고 거리를 걸어
잘 가세 내 친구 내 사랑

침대 밑에서 (The Foot Of The Bed)

목마르요오 물 좀 주소
구수한 나뭇내 맡으며
저 험한 산 위로
높고 긴 벽돌 담의 저택을 두르고
기분이 이상해서
나의 좁은 눈으로
회전의 꿈의 신상 보면서 여행하는 맘이여
끝없이 끝없이 기억을 하며

시간따라 가을따라 그리움 없이
그럼 그때 너가 얼마나
존나 운이 좋았는지
기억할 수 있겠구나

물은 사랑이요
오르는 새 하늘 날으는 흰구름
나뭇잎 사이 불어 가는
앞문에는 대리석과 금빛 찬란도 하지만
시간은 열한 시 반
이 세상을 떠보자
밤이여 유혹의 이름 뒤에 버리고
이것이 사랑인지

바람은 사자와 같이 울고 외치는 이 밤에
그럼 그때 너가 얼마나
존나 운이 좋았는지
기억할 수 있겠구나

그럼 그때 너가 얼마나 존나 운이 좋았는지 기억할 수 있을거야

그럼 그때 너가 얼마나 존나 운이 좋았는지 기억할 수 있을거야 (So You Can Remember How Fucking Lucky We Were Then)

I spend the day with my vanity
I'm lost in heaven and I'm lost to earth
Didn't give you minutes not even moments
All my life in a tower of foil
Shaded feelings, I don't believe you
When you were there before my eyes
No one planned it, I took it for granted
I count the hours since you slipped away
I count the hours that I lie awake
I count the minutes and the seconds too
I know I stole and I took from you
But Bonny don't live at home, Bonny don't live at home
Words don't hold you, broken soldiers
All my silence and my strained respect
I miss the chances and the same regret
Kiss the thief and save the rest
All my insights and retrospect
But Bonny don't live at home, Bonny don't live at home 
Count the hours since I slipped away
Count the hours still I lie awake
I count the minutes and the seconds too
All I stole and I took from you
But Bonny don't live at home, Bonny don't live at home
Bonny don't live at home, Bonny don't live at home

Bonny

Leafcutter ants, endlessly working, carrying the leaves to their nest, building, cleaning, growing their food and nursing their children. Always busy. A different species, yet so similar.

Ameisenstraße (Ant Trail)

Introduction in English:

Last year, my wife and me bought a cottage on the Baltic Sea. It was to be something like our retirement home for the next thirty years. 
Unfortunately, this vision has so far been thwarted by our increasingly resentful neighbours. Consideration is a foreign word for them. They let their children play loud basketball as long as they want; they grill foul-smelling meat as long as they want and they party as long as they want. 
If you ask them nicely to be quiet, you will be dismissed with slogans like "We don't give a shit", "Move away if you don't like it" or "We'll do what we like".
In my helplessness and speechlessness over this dissocial stubbornness, I came across an old Beatles song called "Not a Second Time". Of course, it was composed by John Lennon in 1963 in a completely different context.
But its lyrics fit just as well with my desperate and so far largely unheard plea for more neighbourly consideration. - In particular, the lines: "You're giving me the same old line/ I'm wondering why/You hurt me then/ you're back again/No, no, no, not a second time“ sum up our current plight with these self-centred neighbours.
And as always with covers, my aim is not to get as close as possible to the original, but to transform it into a Karlit-O-Kay sound design.
The picture cover for the song is by German artist Markus Schuke.

Einleitung auf Deutsch:

Letztes Jahr kauften meine Frau und ich an der Ostsee ein Häuschen. Es sollte so etwas wie unser Alters- und Ruhesitz für die nächsten dreißig Jahre werden. 
Leider wurde diese Vision bisher von unseren zunehmend renitenten Nachbarn durchkreuzt. Rücksichtnahme ist für sie ein Fremdwort. Sie lassen ihre Kinder lautstark Basketball spielen, solange die wollen; sie grillen übelriechendes Fleisch, so lange sie wollen und sie machen Party, so lange sie wollen. 
Bittet man sie freundlich um Ruhe, wird man mit Sprüchen wie "Ist uns doch scheißegal", "Ziehen Sie doch weg, wenn es Ihnen nicht paßt" oder "Wir machen, was uns passt" abgefertigt.
In meiner Ohnmacht und Sprachlosigkeit ob dieser dissozialen Dickfelligkeit stieß ich auf einen alten Song der Beatles namens "Not a Second time". Der ist natürlich damals 1963 von John Lennon in einem ganz anderen Zusammenhang komponiert worden.
Seine Textzeilen passen aber ebenso gut zu meinem verzweifelten und bisher weitgehend unerhört gebliebenen Bitten um mehr nachbarschaftliche Rücksichtnahme. – Insbesondere die Zeilen „You're giving me the same old line/ I'm wondering why/You hurt me then/ you're back again/No, no, no, not a second time“ bringen unsere derzeitige Not mit diesen egozentrischen Nachbarn auf den Punkt, 
Und wie stets bei Covern geht es mir nicht darum, dem Original möglichst nahe zu kommen, sondern dieses in ein Karlit-O-Kay- Sounddesign zu transformieren.
Das Bild-Cover zu dem Song stammt von dem deutschen Künstler Markus Schuke.

Not a Second Time

Not A Second Time (Lennon/Mccartney)

Introduction in English:

On a Saturday, 9 June 1989, I receive a phone call from my mother at around 6 am. She seems to be laughing. But as it soon turns out, tears are bursting out of her. At first she can only say one sentence: "Your father is dead". Then her voice fails. I, who has just been roused from my sleep by the ringing, at first think it's a bad joke. My father, not even 55 years old, dead, who had been so full of energy in the last few months? With whom I had spoken lively on the phone just a week ago?
Then my eldest sister comes to the phone. She speaks like a robot, as if she has frozen all her feelings inside herself.
She confirms the sudden death of my father from a heart attack and urges me to come immediately from Berlin to southern Germany (800 kilometres away).
Much of what happened after that - from the last encounter with my father in the morgue, to the years of vacillating between feelings of liberation and sometimes massively frightening "I'll bring you to me in the realm of the dead" nightmares after his funeral, to finding a deeper inner peace with him in the last few years - I wrote down and sang about in the following song "My Father in Heaven".      
However, the song lyrics are not chronological, but set in 2011, in which I am all alone on a beautiful summer day in the cemetery where my father's grave is located. From this day I start a retrospective and an outlook.     

Lyrics:

My Father in Heaven

What a beautiful day
All alone in the graveyard 
Come to visit you
Without a grudge

It's unbelievably quiet
Hear the dead deep asleep 
In an beyond harbour
Be with you soon

I hated you sometimes 
Had you so gladly touched,
You're gone too soon 
Left me alone with the dirt 
Of this life.

Wanted to tell you so much more 
You can't sneak away like that
A moment ago you were still there  
I felt quite close to you,

Now only 
A cold hand in the morgue
Nothing more moves

My father in heaven, 
I miss you very much, 
With wistfulness my heart sometimes
Becomes so heavy

When you were suddenly dead
Many things seemed easier, 
I moved forward in life, 
I looked free

but when I slept at night,
you'd come into my dreams, 
trying to pull me over, 
to the land beyond.

You didn’t let me go for so long 
Lying like a black mourning box
On my chest and belly, 
Felt like I was in a tube 
Trapped by you.

Often couldn’t defend myself
Felt completely without power 
When in the deep of the night
you came to my room, 

without a body, 
pure soul contact,
worlds still unknown to me.

Father in heaven,
do you hear me now,
I speak to you in peace, 
I am no longer hurt.

Your grave is newly decorated,
I've picked a bouquet for you, 
I sit down with you, 
I surrender tot he silence
peaceful silence. 

I am here now, you there
even if the wall separates us,
we see each other invisibly, 
You always stay close to me, 

I'll go on now, 
Stay here, 
I'll be back soon

Father in heaven
I think of you often 
You are indispensable, 
Come with me....

My Father in Heaven

My Father In Heaven

생각이 많은 솔로 프로젝트입니다. (This is a thoughtful solo project.)
new album "Watersports J", April 2nd.

긴 작별인사 (The Long Goodbye)

수상운동 제이 (Watersports J)

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