Tanz der Welt

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Back into the rain

On my way through the rain, wrapped in my cold drenched coat
I still feel the sustain of the few lines you wrote
in wiggly letters with the more aching words in bold
now crumpled and soaking wet down in my trousers’ fold.
Just two or three steps –
 ‘n I’ll reach the gate to your relieved new walls,
to climb up the stairs like a salmon against waterfalls,
but in the end stumbling back with a palsied heart that calls:
this time I’d step…                  

Ref.:		Back into the rain, into the rain, back into the rain, back, back, back.
		This time I’d step back and listen to the rain.

I return to the road into the stormy rain,
shirking an SMS though it’s not too hard to explain,
all my yesterdays’ unease and my memory’s migraine.
Back on the sidewalk – 
nose to the sky, mouth open, my eyes closed,
pouring rain down my head and shoulders, knees and toes
and drops on my lips with the taste of a salted rose, whispering: let’s step…

	Ref.:		…
		(interlude)
		Into it, back into the rain, head up high at high tide,     raindrop-overload.
		Right through it, thus facing the pain, shed all blood 
and leave its haemoglobin to corrode – a protein-episode…

Damp friendly rain, I still feel a sore dry throat,
my inside hurricane works as an antidote,
sweet showers flood the bitterest muscle of unfixed abode
and the slippery asphalt offers me hold…

	Ref.: 	…
		It’s good to feel my back back here within the rain.
…, my way back into the rain.

The Molecular Mass

Back into the rain

Nothing left, nothing right

Str: 	When I moved to the capital confidently
I had all my tunes ready to be heard.
In the end nobody was listening
`cause the noise drowned out my humble murmur.

Bridge:			I came with the best of what I ever could offer,
a musical pantomime singing for walls.

Ref.: 	 It cut me to the bone like a knife
	just leaving me here where nothing is right
	and nothing left, and from off my heart
	drums the beating of art with 
	nothing left – and nothing right…

Str.:	When I worked for LullabyIndustries
	I fell asleep devising new melodies.
My employers fired me instantly
And I found myself remaining sleepless.

Bridge:			I laid awake night and day with a head full of silence,
			humming to cheap rosé semitone lines.

Ref.: 	 It cut me to the bone like a knife
	just leaving me here where nothing is right
	and nothing left, and from off my heart
	drums the beating of art with 
	nothing left – and nothing right…	
Outro (Chor):	…nothing is right, nothing is left (etc)
		Nothing…

Nothing left, nothing right

God on the phone

Str.:	What if God’s on the phone to sell you his home,
	would you claim something cheaper?
	And t‘ adopt His own son and the third of the One,
would you claim something deeper?

Bridge.:		Deeper than turning black holes into universe?
		Cheaper than alble to make man out of dirt?
		Would you just hang up and shake your head?

Str.:	If you’d have won the toss for Jesus‘ old cross,
	would you leave its nails rusty?
	And His second-hand shroud with no cleansing allowed,
	would you be a noble trustee?

	Bridge.:		Would you consider it a real good bargain or
			say „Sorry, that’s not what I’ve been created for…“?
			Would you say „Thanks, Maker. But no.“?

			Refr.: 	God on the phone with the sadest voice on earth
				that you heard in your whole life,
				He’s all alone in His empty club above – 
				have you heard of His silence?

Str.:	What if God’s stepping down offering you His crown
	saying that Frank wore it for one day,
and the sceptre in two but especially for you,
would you turn and bid Him farewell?

Bridge.: 	Declining His heavenly throne and eternity
		with all His innumerable souls‘ immortality,
would you reject and refuse? 		(Refr./Solo/Refr.)

God on the phone

!!SONG ENDS AFTER MIN. 3:15!! Accidentally annected is the ending of "God On The Phone"(due to edit fail); to be replaced soon...

Love plays the same chord
 
Love plays the same weird tune over and over,
plays the same role, the same hand, trick and instrument,
whistles the same scale of hormones and butterflies,
grumbles the well-known drone of jealousy 
and cheat -  it drives the same road,
the usual direction and joins the same traffic jam.

Ref.:	Love plays the same chord, the same song once more,
		euphonious and dulcet, hence commonly bullshit,
		feverish as well as lackadaisical.
		Love plays the same, same chord.

Love picks the same tramp ‘t the same muddy kerb, love
chooses the same kind o’ red flowers again and again,
gulps the same drink at the same Happy Hour,
eats all-that-it-can at All-You-Can-Eat places, 
love tells the same old story,
nostalgic lies and odd out-dated fairy tales.

   Ref.:	 …

Love plays the same chord

Slow down 

Str.:	Wake up from your breathless state and 
count to 10 in silence,
pull that red emergency-brake now, then cool 
down that train-to-nowhere steam and 
let your heart take guidance,
exhausted by sixthousand beats an hour.

Bridge:	Your accelerating soul
is in need of speed-control or
an alleviating slowpoke  - and if
retardation is a painful thing
or embarrassing,
you humdrum rush-bloke:

Ref.:				You’d better slow down,
double-quick time fidget, just slow down again!
You’d better slow down,
cemetery is waiting uptown,
waiting for the next gasping clown
 – slow down!

Str.:		Give up overtaking skills
and curb your dashing horses,
avert to fall into a pace-made swoon, leave ve-
locity at fasting, fill your slackening resources:
the loiterer’s momentum of fortune!

Bridge:	Jog trot is the diction to prefer,
pay your chauffeur,
aim hesitation.

		Ref.:		…
				
Str.:	Zero’s not a standstill but a number of good reference,
its egg-shaped circle keeps you safe and sound,
not a single edge in sight and largest 
with less of circumference,
neither negative nor positive, thus bound.

Bridge:		Take your time, there’s no-one else’s left,
slow-mo is deft and inventive:

Ref.:  … better slow down
to a void of urgency, slow down ergo,
… better slow down, discern the merry-go-round; slowly…

Slow down

Always/Never

“Never “ is a word always to be used carefully,
“Always” ’s just the same, invented for dishonesty.
Each “never” contains a hidden “forever”, 
“always” implies loved repetition’s gone stale.

“Sometimes” isn’t in between, it’s the opposite
with a lot of space to use without being ultimate.
“Everyday” ‘s a thoughtless lie with no basis to trust in,
pretence of a precise course you’ve scaled.

Ref.: 	Always/Never (t.b.rpt.)

Never speak of what is superficially waterproof,
always be aware of possibly distorting truth.
“Never” and “always”, too, include lack of scope, 
one or nil, normally to be disapproved.

		Ref.: …

(interlude)	One of my favourite words is “fortnightly”,
		with anticipation left that excites me
and time to have a rest from ugly “always” and unsightly “never”. 

Outro: 	Always/ Never (t.b.rpt.)

Always/Never

Hell goes Halleluja
        
How can I say to you what I feel for you, dear?
The usual terms aren’t allowed, they may seem taboo
or just come insincere, eccentric or simply worn-out.

Bridge: You take the demons from off my soul 
with a sunny glee, you convert my Mephisto – 

Ref.:	I feel safe and sound and upside-down with you,
feels like hell goes Hallelujah,
tossing and turning, quietly burning inside,
feels like hell goes Hallelujah, I'm praying to you,
my hell goes Hallelujah…

You know, it always kind of hurts to express how it feels
when I’m with you, darling. Although I can’t find the right words
or a phrase that sounds real, I’ve still got a heart to bestow on.

Bridge: You take Belial from off my mind, 
you testify and extinguish my hellfires – 

Ref.: …, I believe in you, my hell…

Hell goes halleluja

PARADISE WINDOW (“Adam & Eve”)

„I woke up this morning…“, like average old songs say
and as they may continue: “… I was thinking of you.”
Yet this you felt so different, far too audacious,
exciting as hell’s for shy angels watching from far.

My mind says “let’s brake!” but the flesh whispers “further!”,
this heart is so uncertain but its blood is so sure.
Temperature’s rising and falls at the same time,
the future is open but closed like the past,
so presence has been bent to last.

Refr.:	Tickling the toes of the love I shouldn’t have,
		hitting a rose against the paradise window.
		Kissing her nose in a parallel universe,
		paying the same price as Adam and Eve.

Let’s fly to where grass grows blue if green’s empty,
lose and find ourselves travelling to parallel worlds.
Take my hands or whatever you need to quit surface
and warm your cold feet at paradise-flame,
burning in heaven’s hell.
(Refr.)

Paradise window (Adam & Eve)

Win or lose thing
 
In the beginning it was a kick-and-rush thing on cerebral stand-by,
and as it developed it turned to hit-and-run and give it a try.
The one thing about trial and error is, it’s the other way round sometimes…

Bridge:	They exorcized with blinded eyes,
			they neutralized their tiny lives, not…

		Ref.:	…ready to hightail out of this,
			going to the wall here day by day.
Ready or not, no cowardice,
no single reason for mistake to stay;*
hightail out of a life that’s led more like a win or lose thing!
*(2. Ref.: Leave the human crater, erase all data,
Richard’s not your waiter anymore!    
hightail out of life led more like a win or lose thing!) 

Finally it became a win or lose thing and loss was the first prize;
the loser was standing small but he had to take it all to learn 
that all share fits one size.
Gold medal weighed the winner down like lead, victory pose paralyzed.

Bridge:	A last bouquet, a résumé,
		no more delay, time to say:

Ref.:	Ready to hightail out of this,
			…

Win or lose thing

Homeless at last
                   
I forgot how to live in here, 
divided from my counterpart dear,
our walls’ colours faded to straight pallor nowadays.
The window pane’s dirt of the past year
accompanies my dull heart’s veneer
‘n holds up the last sparks of sunshine our star dissipates.

bridge:	Closing these doors I’m looking back, 
I got all the keys locked deep inside me,
get into my imaginary Cadillac, 
virtually cruising till I feel…
…homeless (t.b.rpt., Ref.) …at last.

Listening to my very last song 
with D and G just like my first one, 
refrain cribbed from a Swindonian’s missing demo-tape.
Though six eights gave me the chance to 
this time is not meant to be danced to but to be
cried like a dove cries that’s ended love
just to crash in escape.

bridge:	Aspiring to be homeless and
assigned to wistfulness, 
my constant mate.
Duress to be somewhere with 
less of ‘em nightmares to orchestrate…
…homeless (t.b.rpt., Ref.)…at last.

Michael Burger

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