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* * *

Oh, how the dusk just takes and takes 
Take for instance this empty space: 
That spot by the fireplace, where Victor would sit 
His trick with the napkin still unsolved by most 
And there on the couch I can still hear Amanda 
Remember that evening, she just couldn't stop laughing 

Oh, how the dusk just takes and takes them 

And though tomorrow's Victors and Amandas 
Are waiting in the wings and, come next dawn, will take their places 
(well-prepared, scripts and lines all memorized) 
It won't be quite the same 
No, it won't be quite the same 

I've long lost interest in twilight 
And when I hear dusk call, I'll willingly follow 
Though not heavy-hearted, nor laden with sorrow, 
But with the sweet prospect of revisiting friends

Fitting Coffins

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* * *

In love, about twenty-five 
She was eight years older 
The seventies, love free for all 
They say age ain't nothing but... 

Picture them, bride and groom 
Their spring in bloom blossomed into 
A baby in the oven, 
A baby in the oven 

Find your dreams in the oven, in the oven 
Find your zeal in the oven, in the oven 

In fall he picked another flower 
A fickle mind changes heart so fast 
Hers to stone, which rarely changes 
Her father told him: "Just give your all" 

The longing lasted and dreams dissolved 
The truth sank, his hopes drowned 
He could not stand the heat 
And put his head in the oven. 

Find your relief in the oven, in the oven 
Hide your fears in the over, in the oven 
Burn your grief in the oven, in the oven 

Dreams are made in the oven, in the oven 
And dreams taken away in the oven, in the oven 

The Oven

A song about a girl who doesn't quite fit in. So she takes her sorrows to the forest and forgets about them with her new "friends". 

Swans

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* * *

Hurray, hurray, 
Awake for the first time 

Good heavens, 
Haven't seen you in years 
Patience begins 
For ages no dreams, no thoughts, no nothing 
Born again 
It's like death 
Sweet rest 
Relief 

Hurray, hurray 

Thirty seconds, one sentence, 
My awareness underlined 
A void behind me 
Night and day, the same 
No thoughts, no dreams 
Born again 
It's like death 
Sweet rest 
Relief 

In a blank past 
I will love you 
Forever and never 

In a blank past 
I will love you 
Remember, remember

Clive Wearing

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* * *

There's a stowaway, 
But for now: morning brew, 
Blissful ignorance & sunlit headlines 
From the curtains that she drew

There was no good in seeing it coming
So we didn't

And the birds swiftly cleared the field
Was that scarecrow there before? 
How could we have missed it? 

There was no possible way to ignore it
So we didn't

And when our prophets finally come
They will come on ships of gold

The arsenic cure inside her
Lures the crab to try and fight it
While her coat is shed by piercing rays of light

There was nothing else to do but sit and wait
So we didn't 

And when our prophets finally come
They will come on ships of gold
And we put our crosses on 
And we promise as we're told 

How do I keep hope alive, when she fades so hastily
And if it's true, her days are through, she will be what she has been
Iron whale, oh iron whale, are you sure of what you've seen?
And if you're right, here ends the fight, oh what will become of me? 

And when our prophets finally come
They will come on ships of gold
And we put our crosses on 
And we promise as we're told 

She put the glorious music to the credits in the end
She lit another cigarette and postponed the time for bed


Prophets

An Amsterdam-based folk four-piece, whose members have a background in different music styles. Yet, what brought them together is a shared desire to do away with pedal boards and amplifiers and take music back to its acoustic roots. Taking their name from a large ghost dog guarding an old Norwegian castle, the band could also be considered quite elusive and guarding their own principles.  

Malcanisten

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