13.Favorite

raging rausch

Raging Rausch - Best of

A collection of fascinating voices

his eyes adjusted to the dark
like cats he always finds his mark
their end is swift, he doesn't play
he's hungry

their life reduced to blood alone
revives his flesh and brittle bone
his heart has long turned into stone
and yet he's holy

escape the sun as long as him
forgotten colours shine within
everything that's still living
where he's been

for though he doesn't really know
how to judge and how to show
mercy to a guilty soul
on innocents he'd never call

life carries on where he's been
a little safer for the still living
for he takes only those who sin
that's how it's always been

how it's always been

How It's Always Been

when your fear subsides
when curiosity brings you back to life
when i hear you sing once again
i will sing there too

i will sing there too
once again me and you
alive
i will dance there with you
to our new
life

alive

Alive

safe

Safe

First of all - it's long, I know
The lyrics may not seem very coherent, but they do mean plenty to me :)

an end

An End

ich dreh dich um und halt mich fest
so fest wie du mich halten laesst
ich moechte nicht dass du jetzt so einfach gehst
dann bist du weg und ich allein
hier drin kann ich jetzt auch nicht sein
ich muss hier raus, mal etwas atmen gehn
die angst nicht mehr geliebt zu werden
wird meine einsamkeit ernaehren
nicht gerade was ich brauch
und durch die stille die mich umgiebt
am ende nur trauer siegt
ja das weiss ich auch

das kann natuerlich nicht so bleiben
deshalb muss ich staerke zeigen
und bitte jetzt den naechsten rein

meine hoelle wird die eure
ich weiss schon dass ich's nicht bereue
das feuer mit euch zu teilen

ich lass euch darin nicht verbrennen
ihr braucht auch gar nicht wegzurennen
wir koenn uns gemeinsam dran erfreuen

eure schmerzen sind mein segen
wie ein pflaster wunden pflegen
und mich langsam wieder heilen

wie ein kreis des lebens dann
ist der naechste suender dran
der mir hier seine seele schenkt

den ich in den tod liebe
flammen toeten seine triebe
der bisher sein leben lenkt

die ultimative rache
ueber unschuld's leben wache
ist der fluch der an mir haengt

es die pflicht des teufels
dafuer zu sorgen dass sie leiden
damit wir das boese aus ihren dreckseelen treiben

hier bei mir erfahren sie
die schmerzen die ja sonst nur sie
den andern menschen angetan

ein letztes mal halt ich mich fest
bis dich das leben ganz verlaesst
und dann fangen wir von vorne an

fluch

Fluch

reminds me somewhat of "How Fortunate the Man With None" (Dead Can Dance) - not even close to its beauty and I will never get close to one of the most amazing voices I know ...

the curtain opens to a train station in berlin
the s-bahn, a surprisingly fitting setting
for our first act in which we are introduced to a man
who is just about to enter the train
when something curious stops him
looking at the ground he carefully steps around some leaves twirling in the breeze
intertwined of a kind perfectly aligned 
like an old couple skipping like children laughing, chasing, hiding, teasing
but never letting go, and so they dance, the winds cannot separate their hands
for the few seconds the man is distracted by them

in his seat on the train, he's looking at the window
he's looking at the window, focussing on the reflection
of the woman, who is smiling back at him, like every morning
their secret little tradition

in the third act, at the tiergarten they leave the train, both of them
skipping down the stairs like teenagers, in the grip of their excitement
their hands entwinded, they find a little path through the woods, giggling
egging each other on, faster and faster they run until they come to a fallen hut
where they cut through a little opening amongst the trees
and where the sun hits the ground just right - they fall to their knees

face to face their arms outstretched as far as they can reach
they try to hold all of this between them and these trees
in these moments they can believe they won't ever leave

in these moments they believe they won't ever have to leave
they are the dancers
lovers in a storm
they are the dancers
celebrate the day their
love was born

believe

Believe

ABOUT THE WOUNDS OF THE BROKEN
WHO SURVIVED
ABOUT THE FIRES WE BURNED
RUINS WE LEFT BEHIND
ABOUT THE SONGS WE SING
SO WE FORGET
ABOUT THE SONGS WE SING
SO WE NEVER FORGET
ABOUT THE LIES WE TELL
TO CLEAN THE PAST
ABOUT THE MEMORIES OF A LOVE
THAT DIDN'T LAST
ABOUT THE WALLS NOONE CAN CLIMB
AND MY LITTLE FEARFUL SOUL THAT HIDES BEHIND

ABOUT THE PAIN AND DESPAIR THAT I CAUSED
ABOUT A BOY IN HELL FOREVER LOST
ABOUT VICTIMS, AND HEROES, ABOUT MONSTERS AND LIFE
ABOUT TRUTH, AND POWER, ABOUT THE LACK OF AND DRIVE
ABOUT THE EGO AND A CHIP ON A SHOULDER
ABOUT GUILT AND BEAUTY AND THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER
ABOUT THE SIMPLE ANSWERS THAT MAY YET APPLY
ABOUT A HUMAN BEING THAT DOESN'T WANT TO DIE
ABOUT ANOTHER WHO CAN'T WAIT
ABOUT A LOVED ONE FOR WHOM IT'S TOO LATE
YET A STORY UNFOLDING SLOWLY
ABOUT SINNERS AND THE HOLY
FOR IT IS THEM
WHO CAST THE STONES
FOR IT IS THEM WHO BREAK THE BONES

FOR IT IS THE HOLY WHO DECIDE
WHO WILL BURN AND WHO GETS A RIDE
STRAIGHT TO A PARADISE FULL WITH SELFRIGHTEOUSNESS I DESPISE

JUST SEE IT WITH MY EYES

ABOUT A STORY, THAT ONLY JUST BEGINS
AS ANOTHER ONE ENDS
ABOUT SOMEONE WHO REALLY TRIED TO MAKE AMENDS
ABOUT FORGIVENESS, FORGETFULNESS AND THE BLISS THAT'S IGNORANCE
A LORD'S CRUEL THREATS AND SELFRIGHTEOUSNESS
ABOUT THE DEVIL, A FALLEN ANGEL WHO BROUGHT US THE LIGHT
WHO SET US ON OUR WAY TO GODLIKE HEIGHT
YET STILL WE REMAIN DOWN HERE, DROWN IN SELF PITY, HATE AND FEAR
ABOUT THE ONES WHO JUST CONDEMN
THE ONES WHO THINK OF US AS THEM

ABOUT A STORY THAT JUST BEGINS

Oasis - Stop Crying Your Heart Out - Tim

Opium Dream Estate (O.D.E.) is a musical project based in Paris, France, founded in november 2006 by singer/multi-instrumentalist Sébastyén D. (also involved in The Funeral Warehouse, Saison De Rouille, Vostok Station and running Seventh Crow Records). Though Opium Dream Estate’s sound is rather difficult to describe as it is filled with many influences (ethereal, goth, neofolk, indie, neoclassical, etc.), it can be identifiable as (mainly) ethereal and neofolk.

iTunes smarturl.it/shades 
Spotify smarturl.it/shades.ep 
Google Play smarturl.it/shades_ep

OPIUM DREAM ESTATE - (She Has) Spring In Her Hands

11Ritez - Anxious Soul

a song for friends lost. RIP

Feel real bad about what happened last night
must have fell asleep sometime past midnight
there was a killer in our camp last night
hey bears don't come around my camp tonight

feel real bad about what happened last night
smoked all the smoke, drank all the wine
must have fell asleep sometime past midnight

one of us died
one of us died
one of us died
that makes five
lost in the pines

which way did he go?
 nobody knows

Hey bears don't come around my camp tonight
we left a pile of guts over there
we were cooking meat
he can smell it in the air



We're lost in the Pines
five of us died
five of us died
oh..........
Lost in the Pines

That Makes Five

A song by Bob Dylan

Performed by Andy Zovko

Changing Of The Guards

Taken from the bonus 7" that came with pre-orders of Dreadcade.

Dreadcade collects, reassembles &amp; repurpose 9 songs from the past ten years on to one LP. All of the songs are either sourced from limited edition CDRs, cassettes and compilations or previously unreleased. They were intended as an anniversary, but now they will instead stand as an epitaph. This was always about finding redemption and I know now there's none to have.

LP available from <a href="htto://www.idealrecordings.com">iDEAL Recordings</a> or <a href="www.whenskiesaregrey.se">When Skies Are Grey</a>

Dead Letters Spell Out Dead Words — I Am Hermetic

Discopunk

No Es No

Marley muerto - dorado salmón violeta [ Evaristo reconstitución ]

Asimov

the magic of the augenblick
is that there ain't a single tick
to keep your mind preoccupied with the flow of time
so spend that augenblick with me
a perfect time of harmony
intoxicated with the glee
of eternal sein

being ewig means the world
just becomes another word
in the vast wide open sea
that's me

waves are breaking on the shore
open long forgotten doors
right there in the beating core
of my whole being

wheels are turning to the beat
of a thousand dusty feet
without anyone to lead
across the border

on and on they march again
through the heat and through the rain
into valleys of pain
i'll abstain

we prefer the heat of hell
embrace the angel who once fell
praise the angel who once fell

a question of preference

A Question Of Preference

welcome darling to the secret place where the fires are lit
where the beats are starting to reach out to bodies we commit
to the rythm of darkness, to the ritual of life, to the festival of wilful sin
to the breeze, the release of pressures inside, the eternal lust we harbor within

don't just walk in though, precious, for I wish to see
a little tease, a hint of skin, the promise of more of you for me
innocense is never sacred, that's always been a lie
of preachermen determined to use you as their toy

my intentions, sweetheart, are of course not pure
i mean to absolutely use you as my own personal cure
reach out to the skies, reach out to hell
call on the lord, call on the angel who fell

to reinstate my vigour, my strength, my stamina, my youth
to let me be myself again, experience every move
your feet stomp to my beats, i take you in my arms
you're no longer hurting me, one of my many scars

finally i am in charge, my sweet nemesis
reach out to your lucky stars, open your mouth for my kiss
my hands explore your skin, there are no secrets left
we are one at last, a devil finally blessed

at last

At Last

Outrageously expressive vocalist and dancer, regrettably trapped in the tone-deaf body of a cage fighter - hence eternally death-embracing Goth
Deeply religious, yet extremely critical of a clearly unfinished project - Lord, what were thee thinking?
According to many, blasphemous, as I do not oppose a certain fallen angel. It just seems so obvious to me that this creature ('creation, see what I did there?), is just as necessary as the dear Lord himself - and is still trying to clean up some of the mess left behind. I think...
There are times when I've been known to express political thoughts, but only ever to desperately call for revolution and/or declare violence as acceptable as long as it is directed at fascists (and only as long as the good lord does not himself deal with these dickheads by bestowing upon them erectile disfunction and reserving them special rooms in hell). 
Strictly for freedom, opportunity, love, food, shelter, education, health, empathy and dreams. For a true, science based and supported, social democracy. Absolutely not in favour of any form of dictatorship, be that fascist or socialist. However, and to be clear - I am not somewhere in the middle, nor on a fence ;)

Musically, I like to think that I am influenced by classical music, as well as death and doom metal, gospel, blues, country, 80's pop, east-german 80's punk, gothic rock, Enya and, of course, Abba, however, when I listen to the stuff I churn out when I'm experiencing just the right level of depression, I can't help but be reminded of classics like 'Da Da Da' by Trio or 'I'm too sexy for my shirt' by Right Said Fred.
I'd love to liken my voice to heroes like David Bowie, Nick Cave, Blixa Bargeld, Peter Murphy, Andrew Eldritch, Dave Gahan, Marc Almond, Peter Steele and so many other real singers out there, but have to honestly say that, by carefully resisting the need to actually hit notes befitting the underlying musical arrangements, harmonies and ambience, I've managed to create a perfectly detuned and emotionally confused, yet consistently dislikeable style of my own. I wish I could say it grows on you ...

As all my remaining friends despair of my tyrannical tendencies (proudly displayed by diva-like tantrums) when participating in collaborative attempts to achieve somewhat melodious and/or rhythmic proclamations, I tend to squeeze these out all by my lone self. Should anyone out there feel capable (and inspired) to deal with an eternally intoxicated (by his own ego) and therefore very very angry individual, that (who?) is yet confusingly happy to sensually scream along any old tune (that does not glorify fascism), then please get in touch. 

Also happy if you get in touch if none of the above makes any sense to you, but you do like one or two of my songs - there must be someone out there ...

Thank you kindly for stopping by...

'Being humble dictates that I tell you not to take my music and words too seriously - but I don't mean it!' (Rausch, Psalm 384 (or thereabouts), 2021)