To talk in a dream So many bends and these years we've been together passed
And all this time she was tremendously excited About everything she saw Everything we had talked about Every detail of every moment that had passed
Ready One, two
2. Porn Piece Or The Scars Of Cold Kisses
I remember walking, one side of town to the other Alone one night in January... or February It's like in an old movie from some other land It lasted for hours
Only streelights And the grating of gravel in pedestrian subways
I remember some trees which stood black and naked Weatherbeaten hollows of snow With sparse lumps of ice, Been scraped off by the wind alone And on the stairs before I left One of the girls had surprisingly given me a kiss Stung in the cold long after
3. Hallways Of Always
4. Tomorrow Never Knows
5. The Future Sound Of Music
6. We Are The Dead
Ghosts presence, ghost music in the radio at night, when you can't sleep, in the line of shadows around the glowing red eye.
Voices that talk and talk towards nothing, so that nothing's hollow role shall not slide in on the scene in the solitary theater.
And the voices laugh loud, so the candles flicker and go out, without noticing how dark it becomes.
And he who records the voices of the spirits of the dead. On the tape filled with buzz and cosmic noise you can hear their remote voices form German words; they say: Wir sind die Toten, which is true, whoever they might be.
The total inaccessibility of silence, it shines in the wallmirror when you've left, and disappears when you return. No silence in death's silence.
7. Dead City Centres
You're taking a ride to the underworld Where death lurks in dark corners And trouble is never far away
Wild gangs rule by fear and prey on the weak Lone killers haunt the highways And dark forces move through the shadows
In this lowlife realm of freaks and psychos Only the tough or the streetwise survive And you might be big, but to stay big You've got to keep moving, stay sharp and hit first
Enter a deadly future where no prisoners are taken And the killing never stops Enter the underworld
8. Catalept
9. Nowhere / Catastrophe
You fly, or rather float, drift Through an enormous dark room A room of noises
Endless shimmering glissandi Crackling pizzicato Coal black, turbulence holes of bass drones But otherwise empty No planets, no meteorites If anything, perhaps fine dust clouds of exploded music
You float there, somewhere between pleasure and fear
In a piece of time you can't determine You're everywhere but in the present Hey you disappear further and further Into these incalculable rooms And your personality fades away
Your features evaporate, your body decomposes
And your last thought is that you have become a noise A thin, nameless noise among all the others Howling in the empty dark room
