transparent single-sided 12" vinyl with hand-screened b-side comes in a hand-screened jacket and with a 16-pages booklet
Includes unlimited streaming of COUNTING LEAVES
via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
It began with an outrage
Now it’s just a long line of accidents I witness
Without reaching out my hand.
It’s oh so quiet after the noise is all gone,
It almost hurts
Yet I’m the white sheep, gazing paralyzed,
Witnessing. The monk by the sea.
(At the same time this agglomeration of flesh, blood and dreams has never felt so tired.)
At least it’s oh so quiet.
So let me sleep until the calendar ends,
Until the rites of spring are evoked by caring mothers shown on an art nouveau fine print
(That’s) hung out to dry in a garden no one enters,
Until we’re more than zeros and ones,
Until then just let me sleep
Because I did my research, I observed, I counted and then began again:
There’s no harmony in anything, at the most there’s choreography of the smallest parts
Summing up every now and then (to form something that’s breathing),
To form someone who’s dancing to this misplaced rhythm, this binary code of growth and decay.
“Oh, such a clever boy, figured it all out, now do your math”,
The apocalypse in its smallest parts, an equation I never solved.
Although I can’t stop to count the fallen leaves how could it feel right to say:
“We’re all dead, we’re all doomed, we’re all damned etc. etc.”
If tomorrow is surely coming and it’ll be just like today?
Reenactments of a slow dance in between long lines of accidents,
My head’s spinning (so please pardon my sarcasm), I danced with Lazarus for far too long.