1.MELANCHOLY Her bare feet left the wooden porch and landed softly amongst the crisp indigo grass. The air was sweet and still; as she made her way across the meadow like a whisper in the warm summer night. The iridescent skies gleamed onto a sleeping river, where an old oak was watching over a dock peacefully. She stepped onto it. The floorboards creaked gently under her toes. The only witness to this scene was a rusty kerosene lamp, hung from one of the dock's crooked poles. Casting ochre beams of light into the night's blue kingdom, it enveloped her slender body in angular shapes made of shadows and gold. Her eyes remained soaked in darkness as she looked back one last time to the house he had built for her. In the schoolyard, they used to call her Melancholy, but he just knew her as Sandy.

2.SANDY LEE Down bellow The surface of her skin, Laid a heart in snow Who'd seen its share of second spins. And all the way down, down to the riverbed stones, She sank her bones. Up above Memories in dust, Laid a heart in love Who kept them from the rust. And all the way down, down to this bed of stone, It was one of their own. Somewhile ago she went astray, In an army of trees at night. And all their paths narrowed In the blackness of their mind. She thought she lost control As the leaves strangled the light. Sandy Lee, What, in the darkness, did you see? Oh Sandy Lee, What darkness did you flee? Down bellow The surface of her skin, Slept a daemon in snow Who wore a frozen grin. And all the way down, down to this bed of stone, He became his own. It's so sad to watch such a young thing die, Under the weight of a misunderstood sigh. As he woke up, she was swept up by a current, and floated downstream. It was all part of his wicked dream. Sandy Lee, What, in the darkness, did you see? Oh Sandy Lee, What darkness did you flee?

3.LET THE RIVER FLOW How many stories, untold, Under the stars unfold? Let the river flow, Only the forest will know.

4.MIGRATION I woke up one morning all was red and the sun was dead My eyes opened from a beautiful dream Into this worldʼs new saffron skin Across the gloom at the end of the room Laid a not inked in last moon It said she said sheʼd rather be dead Than hear the flutter of wings in her head CHORUS (And that) There are so many places to see So many people to be She wrote that all my stories were written in the palm of my hands And that all the answers slept beneath the desert sands Past the never lands Of a quiet place That only I could face I woke up next morning all alone And her smell was gone From the walls cracks bled led and spread As vermin in agony fled Across the river a feast of flame Was eager to defeat its bane Under the choking beat of a ceiling fan I put on yesterdayʼs clothes and ran CHORUS (And itʼs true) There are so many places to see So many people to be I crossed the fields and plains Under the hash-flake rain To the edge of a town Our sanctuary slain People were boarding the last train Easterly bound Past the nowhere lands Of a forsaken place That only steel could face Not a sound Only the clicks of lonely tracks below And the land running away Through the coal stained window Leaving the orange glow Only our eyes would show Our silent sorrow And a thousand thoughts with no space to flow The conductor came in and softly said Do not fret, go to sleep Itʼs a well oiled machine And it wonʼt run out of steam Unless the stoker runs out of dreams

5.THE CONDUCTOR Have you ever felt lost Have you ever felt alone Well hark to my voice Listen to what we have to say That you have a choice That there is a way The wise say to pay no heed to stories of elder and bone That a true path should be seeded all on oneʼs own But a life off the tracks will lead you to the unknown A life in which youʼll live in fear of being stoned Every time youʼll seek counsel, youʼll find it best To keep your own or let it rest Every time youʼll reach out, Every time youʼll share Youʼll find that expectations will lead to despair That the world is cruel and unfair And that validation of your ways are at best very rare But why the bother? Why the strife? Take a step back, stop rolling the dice Now witness here a garden of delights We have palpable rewards and tangible goals Chairs of high standing and acceptable roles Happiness in boxes, happiness in pills, True measures of worth stamped in steel and on wheels Lets bury your past, that ungrateful wraith End the torments at last, all you need is a little leap of faith No need to loose face, We all gave it a fair try We too have watched our due wander awry We have antidotes from smoke and rye To sooth the tall, the small, The fat, the fit and the average overall Approved by everyone and all We have all sorts of stories that will make your heart tug and pull, Dopamine packed formulas proven by science and many a fool A wonderland of pixelated dreams, Epic tales from the silver screen Follow the hero and its foe Sit back, relax, in mound of chocolate chips and soda pop topped with Chantilly ice cream Have you ever felt lost Have you ever felt alone Well listen to my voice Listen to what we have to say That you have a choice That there is a way

6.THE SORCERERʼS PLEA My spirit beseeches thee amidst dreaming, I am your ally in thy quest to seeing. Until thou has lived the tale which is yours, My words will fall short, drown by reason's roars But when the ruckus loses its fervor, And silence sends thee seeking an answer, Dig deep below your feet into the sands, With feverish anger. And out of thy hands all scorched, black and bloody, Laying solitary amidst the golden pit, will emerge thy story out of the grit. Along the lines of their peaks and crevices will echo an innate memory, My words, ressurging, thee will remember assiduously. Yet, many a season may pass for them to resonate full and profound, But thou will waken under a ruby ether in a fury as they resound. I will be waiting passed the ancient ruins of younger years, passed the sixth gate, at the edge of a somnolent glade. For there is my temple. On its step, we shall rest in its shade, Whilst talk is made of the times kept secret in the ancestral chest. At dusk, I will send thee forth a dirt path through a majestic forest. What will be seen during the tenebrous night is thine to keep. But I will say, pay no homage to the darkest hours within her depth, bounce, and leap, Do not fall prey. As the mighty trunks clear and the nocturnal beasts let out their dying barks at morn's gate, you will reach its end. Dawn will rise over a boundless prairie, and she will shine to greet thee with the most tender of smiles in the warmth of your immaculate land. And now I will leave thee, for this is all I have to state, This is all I will to relay of thy fate. CHORUS Reality is but a wall of steam, Brewed and groomed by this machine. Dreams fair light against its armored plates, Burn in fears till iron belly satiates. Stuck between the rails of the road, Waiting on the Sandman to pick up our load. Many a shadow lost to the mist, Less and less names show on his list.

7.BLACK CHROME Strange words from another age lingered in my mind as I awoke to the barren dunes of a desert. They succeeded one another like waves wiping the windowpane. The wagon was fast asleep, and the stars still tinseled the sky. A glow crowned the horizon and intensified as our convoy traversed rocky outcrops on its ascent towards it. As the train rolled over the hump, a metropolis blossomed from the valley below. Orbs flowed on roads that spread like veins between twinkling monolithic beasts. They were breathing, alive in light and color. I was mesmerized by the glimmering spectacle until it all came into focus as we approached the station. Under the mighty spires laid an eclectic mix of architecture. It was beautiful in its archaic and precarious nature but forewarned of a ruthless hierarchy at play. Dirty rags ornated the windows of ghostly facades that lined and trapped the last bits of track. Finally, the pull of the crying brakes clasped onto our chests and met an abrupt clunk. After a few seconds soaked in stillness, a screeching roll resonated throughout the car, and I was overwhelmed by a sea of men. A sea of tight fists, sharp elbows, grasping nails, and cutting words, which had drowned all traces of humanity. We pushed and tugged until we spewed out the shaken doors like sheep out of a pen. The maddened herd rushed through the station in a wild rumpus and dissipated. Steam and fog sprawled back onto the empty platform, and a balmy drizzle fell soft and steady. I saw a face appear from the shadows in the flash of a matchstickʼs glow. The lone silhouette was leaning against an automobile and gave me a cold look. A crimson crackle pierced through the smoke. “Iʼll take you where the night never sleeps” he spurted, almost mechanically, and walked around the lustrous chunk of metal. Although he was just another cabbie, I could not shake the feeling that he had been waiting for me, but what else was I to do? The door closed with a muffled thump. With it, all the sounds of the world were sucked out. All the sounds but a morose bellow, surfacing from the asphalt ocean below, and the heavy beat of my heart sinking into the backseat of the midnight interior. All around, scattered glints of chrome shone amidst black felt and leather. The machine ran at a steady pace, and streaks of light cut through the still darkness in front of me, chasing shadows along the panels of the car. As we progressed toward the center of the city, the dirty monotone streetlight beams turned into a dance of candy-colored neon daggers. I caught a few licking his pale, stern face. His eyes were glazed in reflections of the rainy street, one which he must have seen countless times before. His gaze remained impenetrable, a mask painted by too many lonely nights behind the wheel. He had heard all the tales a city pavement could recount and didnʼt want to hear any more. I could tell and did not utter a single word, leaving the silence be. At the end of a string of empty sidewalks, an oasis of life came in sight. I had arrived.

8.BLOODMOON ROMP Behind doors guarded by a phantomatic automaticon, Chandelier sparkles pierced towers of smoke, And rained onto elated creatures spinning furiously in the pit of a sonic coliseum. Out of the swirl of steamy exultation, The manic clamor and clinking of elixirs Suckled and resuscitated primal agitations. At the heart of this madness resides an oracle. Only the chosen roam its halls, Those who seek its truth yonder the walls of morals And taunt darkness in search of its wonder and spectacle. In a backroom, a ceremony. Against back-walls, a shadow-play. A cult of the carnal body, Chasing away it's charnel destiny. Out of the penumbra of Ero's sanctuary, A witch rose and fed on ecstasy. et flos de gemmis eruperant obumbratio All around, they gathered, to love her so. All their shadows mingled to form one, As they beat their skin to the sound of drums, Till all the limbs of the newborn brute were good and done. Its moans and groans dissipated in a flutter of stomp, Until they were no more, And silence sang its ode to the death of this blood moon romp. Out of silk and velvet, Escaped a whisper: You Are Next.

9.WINTER IN PARADISE As the troughs defining peak and valley Became too deep The faith needed in the vivid journey Was deemed too steep So the bleak heimal winds were called upon To cover the world in a gauze of frost And crystalline flakes descended anon Until all relief was forsaken and lost It had been a long winter in paradise But I saw a face peering through the ice She came with the jacaranda bloom Grew a garden out of cinder and ruin We chased our shadows down on sidewalks Imbibed in the ink of night As they lingered and danced to The glow of midnight streetlights Our words intertwined with a tender breeze Which ruffled the leaves of trees Breathing the air soaked in dreams Of a city cloaked in slumber and gleams Ce soir la, je me suis perdu dans tes grands yeux bruns Qui me cachaient bien des chagrins Nous nous tenions par la main apeurés et surpris Par ce coin de paradis Dans ce monde et sa cacophonie Mais pour nos âmes bordées de noire Il était trop tôt pour y croire Translation (On that night, I lost myself in your deep brown eyes Which kept a few sorrows hidden from me Hand in hand, we were bewildered By this spot of paradise In this world and its cacophony But for our souls lined by darkness It was all too early to be trusted) It has been a long winter in paradise And I saw your face peering through the ice I reached in the gelid pool too soon You left with the jacaranda bloom I now meander in corridors of cigarette fueled insomnia Where the memories of your scotch infused lips And the biting edge of your wit Distort in echolalia And I know if you just wouldʼve given it time I couldʼve brought down the walls around our minds yearning to shine You know I was dead inside for many years and I was taken by surprise I wish I hadnʼt misread the signs So if I gazed into your eyes a bit too long It was beyond me And I didnʼt mean to come on so strong You know that tests and predictions Donʼt always amount to the right conclusion And cutting a story short based on assumptions Isnʼt the right solution Because life is fond of her little surprises And Iʼm not saying Iʼm the right one for you But weʼre gonna miss out on a few In front of opened gates the lion froze While I watched my fantasy drown in the river of time So it goes...

10.FALLING FROM GRACE Falling from grace, I hear an angel crying. He shot me down, But missed the girl, The girl in blue When the streets are sunk in rain, And the traffic lights mess with the evening train, I get lost in reflections of her face Soaked in velveteen blue. Falling from grace Is a feeling I got used to, When I hear her footsteps go to sleep into a night made of velveteen blue. In the dim-lit heart of a dive, A place where my fantasies run wild, There dwells, in every shadow, Stories made of velveteen blue Falling from grace Is easy to do, When a guy like me Falls for a love as fake as velveteen blue.

TEMPLE Deep green walls lined with Darjeeling Gold, And red carpets flow through dimly lit corridors, Like a river of blood, feeding an ancient Forrest, While its canopy dances to the fury of lightning. For there stands the stronghold of one man, Grown out of immaculate stone. A colossus tearing at his chains; His feet, never escaping the dirt from which he had spawn. The ruler of this lore had risen from the deepest pit; A hole that devoured even the purest ray of light. Down in this abyss, he forgot of the sun, Only hearing the faint aviary agitations of dawn, Echoing through impassive tunnels. He incessantly pounded the coal clothed rocks, As a sculptor chisels a block of marble in search of a forsaken goddess. His hands always smelt of burnt iron, And the glimmer in his eyes resembled two white isles in an ocean of darkness; Two white flames fueled by a vision, In which the prize sought would illuminate the crooked galleries of his own heart. One sacred night, his battered pickaxe struck the vein and bestowed glory onto him. Judging himself worthy of the light, he crawled out towards the moonglow. Nearing the opening, he passed his ghost staring back into the void, Just as he had done on the day of his arrival; A testament to the soul which had been consumed by these hellish bowels, A beacon which he did not grasp. He erected a shrine in honor of his achievement, To impress his prowess onto others and himself. But when the twilight winds embraced the castle walls, Their chant was gelid and hollow. Many a time the ochre colors of summer fields climbed into the trees, And now he sits awaiting death, In a temple which ineptly atones for the gash he dug into the bark of the earth. Cradled by the putrefied flesh of a deceitful Venus, He withers in memories of the true wilderness which had run strong in his chest. The one true love he lost, Eclipsed by the shadows of his pursuits, As he walked across a valley of primeval pillars supporting nothing but thin air.

12.TRAIN TO ORWELLIA Stuck in a grim huffing machine Trusting the squealer in the blood spangled travel magazine Our minds got lost to the clicks of the tracks below Racing through blue midnight snow The muse left this vessel a long long time ago Its eroding shell runs on the carrion of sun swelled days Runs on flashes of opium and heroine dreams Runs into the ground at full steam So when the winds turn to the seas Will you forgo to them your fantasies Will you remain on this desert island Risen from the dust of memories Or will you let your sails bulge with the despotʼs barks As your stern strikes the bleating doused doom And cuts thru a starless night to meet dawnʼs bloom Thru the chinks and cracks a faint light shines And the Pungiʼs tune is growing weak with time As questions slither thru the meek To meet the wide open eyes of the freaks Our faces mirror each other in longing to belong Cocks crow in fear of what lingers in silence Cowards give love a bad name And the mindless always find new things to blame And the pigs struggle to keep it all the same So, When the winds turn to the seas Will you forgo to them your fantasies Will you remain on this desert island Risen from the dust of memories Or will you let your sails bulge with the despotʼs barks As your stern strikes the bleating doused doom And cuts thru a starless night to meet dawnʼs bloom? So when the winds turn to the sea Will you forgo to them this fantasy Send it in exile to a forsaken sanctuary An island risen from the dust of shed memories And when the bells clamor in your names Will you even remember me

13.TEN YEARS Jousted in a white fever Opponents who could not bleed Transpierced their clunking armor Brought down their screaming steed Only to hear in horror Hooves charging across the field Where are the opulent parties Where are the glistening guts of these victories I dug down into the soiled sands Only to find trembling hands Ten years had cast Times abating cloak Ten years passed Before I awoke Ten thousand miles away, fast Out of fire and smoke The pale faced daughter of the night Had made me a luring promise So I followed her beam of light Into a dream, a place of bliss I tried to discern her floating figure Through the swaying folds of her midnight dress Hung onto the stars as the blue canvas Of a circus in which stories never rest She led me towards a desert inn Across a giant sunk in slumber No one could hide on his barren skin Unveiling any beasts or swindler The neon oasis sucked them in Its walls, stained in ruckus, stood paper thin My pocket was fraught with cold steel sin A skeleton key in wait within I stepped over a spilled bucket and broom Came to a door dressed in dread and gloom Ten years had cast Times abating cloak Ten years passed Before I awoke Ten thousand miles away, fast Out of fire and smoke Motionless in an armchair A stranger wearing my name Watching the door in a glare Quietly numb, I felt his shame The wooden room had no windows Moaned and creaked as would a shipʼs hull Braving the maker of widows Who bites at the waves and wings of gulls Under the man slept a sullen shadow A grey ocean needing a moon to lull Strained oars had given under his dogged row Currents had beaten him into his skull Onto the worn floorboards he fell Crawled towards the exit of his vapid hell An oil lamp crashed and burst, The place started to burn I sat down in his place This time it was his turn To wear our face Ten years passed And the times, they softly spoke Ten years passed Before I awoke Ten thousand miles away, fast Out of fire and smoke The morning breeze sings and runs amongst the resting brush Through sage and juniper it disappears in a lush A vermillion horizon has swallowed my home The people I love have grown old all on their own In the distance I hear a clarion And I hope my battles wonʼt weave new lies Ten years to this day A new life at stake Ten thousand miles away I am awake The past still nags at the present And the future never really happens anyway