War es Sommer, als der Fluss austrocknete, oder war es noch nur ein Deich – als das Unglück einer Schneeflocke im Juni noch eine Erleichterung bedeuten konnte? O, wie sehr ich Dich Liebe rief ich einst vor langer Zeit, doch ich war derjenige, der sich Entschlossen hatte fortzugehen, um jenseits der letzten Gipfel zu suchen, und obwohl ich hörte, dass nur Vögel in dieser Höhe leben können.
So tat ich, als ob ich statt meiner Arme Flügel hätte und flog hinauf in die Luft. Ich flog zu Plätzen, die die Wolken nie zu sehen bekommen, zu nah bei den Sandwüsten, wo Tausende von Fata Morganas, diese Hirten der Lüge, mich zum landen zwangen – und so musste ich mich verschleiern. Wenn nur in Pferdetritt mich zurückbefördern könnte – und wenn ich ein Pferd finden könnte, das nicht aus Sand ist.
Wenn diese Wüste alles ist, was es je geben wird, das sag mir, was aus mir werden soll. Ein Regenschauer? Das muss wieder einer deiner Träume gewesen sein, ein Traum des verrückten Mannes im Mond.
Hey, Mann, ich bin der Sandmann, und ich habe ein paar Neuigkeiten für dich. Sie werden dich ins Gefängnis werfen, und du weißt, sie geben nie auf, denn Sand ist dicker als Blut. Aber ein Gefängnis im Sand ist ein Hafen in der Hölle, denn aus einer Zelle kann ein Tor werden und ein Tor kann dir einen Einsatz verschaffen auf einem schlammigen Fußballfeld in Newcastle, wo es so oft regnet, dass du ein bisschen Sonne und Sand gar nicht abwarten kannst.
Im Tal des Todes, ohne Schatten, beten sie um Gewitterwolken und Regen: doch für die Menge die im Regen steht, ist dort der Himmel, wo die Sonne scheint. Das Gras wird grüner sein – bis die Stiele braun werden. Und die Gedanken werden höher fliegen, bis die Erde sie zu Boden bringt. Der, der für immer in der Wüste lebt, muss lernen, nicht mehr an das Meer zu glauben.
Wenn diese Wüste alles ist, was es je geben wird, dann sag mir, was aus mir werden soll. Ein Regenschauer? Das muss wieder einer deiner Träume sein, ein Traum des verrückten Mannes im Mond.
Fifty thousand men were sent to do the will of one. His claim was phrased quite simply, though he never voiced it loud, I am he, the chosen one.
In his name they could slaughter, for his name they could die. Though many there were believed in him, still more were sure he lied, But they’ll fight the battle on.
Then one whose faith had died Fled back up the mountainside, But before the top was made, A misplaced footfall made him stray From the path prepared for him. Off of the mountain, On to a wilderness of ice.
This unexpected vision made them stand and shake with fear, But nothing was his fright compared with those who saw him appear. Terror filled their minds with awe.
Simple were the folk who lived Upon this frozen wave. So not surprising was their thought, This is he, God’s chosen one, Who’s come to save us from All our oppressors. We shall be kings on this world
.
Follow me! I’ll play the game you want me, Until I find a way back home.
Follow me! I give you strength inside you, Courage to win your battles –
No, no, no, this can’t go on, This will be all that I fled from. Let me rest for a while.
He walked into a valley, All alone. There he talked with water, and then with the vine.
They leave me no choice. I must lead them to glory or most likely to death.
They travelled cross the plateau of ice, up to its edge. Then they crossed a mountain range and saw the final plain. Still he urged the people on.
Then, on a distant slope, He observed one without hope Flee back up the mountainside. He thought he recognised him by his walk, And by the way he fell, And by the way he Stood up, and vanished into air.
Mad Man Moon
Lyrics:
Was it summer when the river ran dry Or was it just another dam When the evil of a snowflake in June Could still be a source of relief O how I love you, I once cried long ago But I was the one who decided to go To search beyond the final crest Though I’d heard it said just birds could dwell so high
So I pretended to have wings for my arms And took off in the air I flew to places which the clouds never see Too close to the deserts of sand Where a thousand mirages, the shepherds of lies Forced me to land and take a disguise I would welcome a horse’s kick to send me back If I could find a horse not made of sand
If this desert’s all there’ll ever be Then tell me what becomes of me A fall of rain That must have been another of your dream A dream of mad man moon
Hey man I’m the sandman And boy have I news for you They’re gonna throw you in goal And you know they can’t fail ‚Cos sand is thicker than blood But a prison in sand Is a haven in hell For a gaol can give you a goal Goal can find you a role On a muddy pitch in Newcastle Where it rains so much You can’t wait for a touch Of sun and sand, sun and sand
Within the valley of shadowless death They pray for thunderclouds and rain But to the multitude who stand in the rain Heaven is where the sun shines The grass will be greener till the stems turn to brown And thoughts will fly higher till the earth brings them down Forever caught in desert lands one has to learn To disbelieve the sea
If this desert’s all there’ll ever be Then tell me what becomes of me. A fall of rain That must have been another of your dreams A dream of mad man moon
Lamia…
Lyrics:
The scent grows richer, he knows he must be near, He finds a long passageway lit by chandelier. Each step he takes, the perfumes change From familiar fragrance to flavours strange. A magnificent chamber meets his eye.
Inside, a long rose-water pool is shrouded by fine mist. Stepping in the moist silence, with a warm breeze he’s gently kissed.
Thinking he is quite alone, He enters the room, as if it were his own But ripples on the sweet pink water Reveal some company unthought of –
Rael stands astonished doubting his sight, Struck by beauty, gripped in fright; Three vermilion snakes of female face The smallest motion, filled with grace. Muted melodies fill the echoing hall, But there is no sign of warning in the siren’s call: “ Rael welcome, we are the Lamia of the pool. We have been waiting for our waters to bring you cool.“
Putting fear beside him, he trusts in beauty blind, He slips into the nectar, leaving his shredded clothes behind. With their tongues, they test, taste and judge all that is mine. They move in a series of caresses That glide up and down my spine.
As they nibble the fruit of my flesh, I feel no pain, Only a magic that a name would stain. With the first drop of my blood in their veins Their faces are convulsed in mortal pains. The fairest cries, „We all have loved you Rael“.
Each empty snakelike body floats, Silent sorrow in empty boats. A sickly sourness fills the room, The bitter harvest of a dying bloom. Looking for motion I know I will not find, I stroke the curls now turning pale, in which I’d lain entwined “ O Lamia, your flesh that remains I will take as my food“ It is the scent of garlic that lingers on my chocolate fingers.
Looking behind me, the water turns icy blue, The lights are dimmed and once again the stage is set for you.