These kisses
before any sign of hope
they give
excluded dive
light breathes sweetly on my body and I breathe
my body won't be alone
love under
trembling banner
love gift is
my requiem.
Yeah
Yeah-yeah
Yeah
Yeah-yeah.
Well the abyss
sits and snores duvets
head severed
chain of fate
light breathes
sweetly and I count and breathe I
am myself a
swan cleaned
and ready, I
flush river and ebb
while the body
sinks.
Yeah
Yeah-yeah
Yeah
Yeah-yeah.
Et rekviem er en tåre fyldt med tunge
et hjerte er en tunge fyldt med rekviem
dine smagsløg er dine smagsløg
dine smagsløg er dit hjertes tunge.
De udenlandske realiteter afviser det forbigående, at det menneske, der passerer dig, ikke skulle være andet end et tilfældigt fnug i universet, det enkelte individ befriet for det nationale rationale både som fascismens valium og den katolske oversigt over forbudte bøger ~ Opera omnia i samme skuffe som Alfred Rosenberg og Jean-Paul Sartre. Modsætninger der tømmer hinandens værker for indhold. Hver enkelt fremmed giver sin lille fornyelse eller forandring, men intet er os ukendt, når realiteten åbnes indefra; tvivl har altid haft sit rum og det fremmede er det, vi kommer ind i verden med før alt andet.
Ingen tilslutning til kultur siver ind fra de fyldte tider, fra alle naturlige enheder "Helvede natural" og kun den mindste opgivelse nægter det at opfylde dette sit allerede fyldte bæger.
Når endelig den lille kultur af intethed fylder al fylde, fremkaldes ingen nævneværdig tilslutning og de kendte riter indskrives og genskaber verden i os.
For verden slipper altid sin magtesløshed som efterårsløv fra vilkårlige menneskers hænder; i disse mennesker, ubestemt af sådanne frastødte detaljer, kommer det stadigt spørgende frem fra hver sin kultur.
Herinde mister den modtagende sin tildækning, da den ingen betydning længere har for iagttagelsen og tvivlsomt må afslås enhver lediggangs undren over verden.
I have so many
questions
if the kisses
come ashore safely
if I save
something and am weighed down
hardly ever before did I go
through the same hell
that's what
I'm trying to fix
if it helps to
scream
if it helps to
open sunken suitcases
old drops from
heavy gasps
old questions
from a long time ago
a wasteland
that saves me and lifts me up.
There's
something inside my head
it's probably
something with my genes
it's a bit
messy and feels dead
like there
were white reindeer
when I curl my
lip and get tics
hunted by fear
it's because
it hurts
it's because I
have a white spot
somewhere that
feels sick
somewhere that
isn't
in everything
that I'm not.
I measure up
my field of joy
and you still
point out all the gray tones
it's a mystery
how I'll get through saved
the desolate cracks indicate
frostbite in the old shed
from the drops
that fall and are counted
the knife
blade in my pencil sharpener
makes me the
surgeon of the soul
a cradle that
rules so king
a field of joy
of unbridled pain
the foaming gallows of the day
every day hangs me.
There's
something inside my head
it's probably
something with my genes
it's a bit
messy and feels dead
like there
were white reindeer
when I curl my
lip and get tics
hunted by fear
it's because
it hurts
it's because I
have a white spot
somewhere that
feels sick
somewhere that
isn't
in everything
that I'm not.
Lisbeth says
will you paint my dress
you must paint
it while I have it on
the brush
finds everywhere
as she slowly
turns around.
Then we go out
into the night
to talk to the
birch trees
the colors are
not fixed
and the fine
rain speaks to
but Lisbeth
she wants to dance
Lisbeth wants
to dance.
Lisbeth says I
want to dance all night
and you must
dance with me between birchs
you must find
everywhere
without saying
a single word.
Then we go out
into the night
to talk to the
birch trees
the colors are
not fixed
and the fine
rain speaks to
but Lisbeth
she wants to dance
Lisbeth wants to dance.
Paint my dress
paint my dress
paint my dress
uh-uh-uh
paint my dress
paint my dress
paint my dress
uh-uh-uh-uh
uh-uh-uh-uh.
Ooh-ooh-ooh
Four, five.
Diving now
diving dog
emerges from guestbook
diving looks
up under ferry
the hidden
king pulls you up
from the
anchor of riddles.
Diving now
diving
dog barks at
seagull
from a lake
diving imaginary
meal, the
usual from the pot
same freeze
hits again.
River now
and everything
increases.
Hitting rocks
the dolphins
seek away
wake up
to the usual
the very
usual, yeah.
Survive begin
Ah-ah, ah-ah,
ah-ah
Deep purple, deep purple
deep purple on your guitar.
I don't tie your little sister
but I let the door be open
I let the door be open
so you can hear her
so you can hear her.
Blue swimming, blue swimming
blue swimmingpool for you.
I don't tie your little sister
but I let the door be open
I let the door be open
so you can hear her
so you can hear her.
Deep purple, deep purple
deep purple on your guitar.
When the end
is still alive and sleeping on stilts
where you push
your hell into its hell
the world is
squashed together in a sleeping bag
the whole
world stretches your toe
the more you
turn the pages
the more warm
your feet shoot
you listen to
the world
seagulls kiss
the sea is the
world the power comes from
from the
crystal clear water of the rivers
where deafness
seizes age and spawns churches
it's just a
brook it all flows from
from the
inside of the earth
lift your
reading glasses out of the night
and open your
inner cinema
ready to
breathe new life
into the last
ruin of the planet.
Ruined needs
ruined needs
I don't need you anymore.
Into the last ruin of the planet
ready to
breathe new life
and open your
inner cinema
lift your
reading glasses out of the night
from the
inside of the earth
it's just a
brook it all flows from
from the
crystal clear water of the rivers
the sea is the
world the power comes from
you listen to
the world
seagulls kiss
the more warm
your feet shoot
the more you
turn the pages
the whole
world stretches your toe
the world is
squashed together in a sleeping bag
where you push
your hell into its hell
where
deafness seizes age and spawns churches
the end is
still alive and sleeping on stilts.
Her ligger jeg og er tilværelse
råhygge sømmet fast til tårnværelsets ånde
lys vil die, lys vil rawplugse vindue
sjælen lever i tåger
faner falder direkte ned i smeltedigelen
rågekoloni løfter et ton fadøl gennem gæller
lave mål støder flod af stråling
og tager sine lommeopkald til nåde
du er Hiroshimabomben som aldrig faldt
de væskende sår falder som kirker
gennem nåleskovenes et-tals-klub
en anden verdens konge tømmer toner
afgnavede kæber bliver rygsøjle
så hør dog Altet suge
hele rodebutikken op
i Universets klodevask.
In the middle
of the garden it stands and shines
with
worm-eaten moldy apples
we have buried
the remains in there.
If I had no
past and had no future
I would be a
butterfly
a free spirit,
a lost soul.
From the
rotten pile
the snakes
crawl out
so thin they
came out of their eggs.
If I had no
past and had no future
I would be a
butterfly
a free spirit,
a lost soul.
Let the sheep
run
let the sheep
run
they have no
stardust
on their
tongues.
If I had no
past and had no future
I would be a
butterfly
a free spirit,
a lost soul.
The maidens
sweep the same way
the heavens
fall with them
a monkey holds
up the weight like a wall
of cobweb-thin illusions.
If I had no past and had no future
I would be a butterfly
a free spirit, a lost soul.
Of course the
vacuum cleaner catches lint
the whole
house is a fit of rage
but then
because heads fall mysteriously
like rubber
balls on each other's icicles
then you know the dumbness
the floors will try
before the revolutionary sparrow kisses
the red skin of your apple
you polish it
with a palm sunday donkey.
three witches' shots
I must not touch
because you
dare not love me again.
Before the
smoking deaf pot draws air
you see spring
pass by
and then because there are
poles between globe life
then your cake zoo will be
emptied of animals
the vacuum cleaner peels off
the fluff of the seed pods
and soon the
soap offers up rice a la mande.
Clean, clean cut
three witches' shots
I must not touch
because you
dare not love me again.
Det må være sådan
skabe lidt luft i et åndehul
tale med hjertets esperanto
fælde en tåre som et skulderklap
til alle de brombær
kælkebakken fik tilbage
som lånte søm
det må være sådan
flytte en lille sten
eller tusinde blade
fra farvellernes syn
salamandrene drømte
mod mavens splintrende ro
alle årstider samlet
i en kimono
det må være sådan
at alle versaler
kastes tilbage i deres eget exit
der må være en orden
større end håndens bevægelse
hen over silken
en langsom gestus
til at fylde rummet
med smerte og glæde
det må være sådan
så er det på plads
i en bedre verden
en millimeter fra denne
værkende krop.
The ballroom
is big
and you are
the queen of the ball
you are
wearing a dress
from your
soon-to-be-large wardrobe
that burned
down last year.
I am bored
with alcoholics
I am looking
for breathing holes
a new era of
security in desires
oh, even my
sleeves are running away
and unraveling
into shadows
I am bored
with alcoholics.
Blowing
yourself up like a balloon
dresses you
just as little
as rolling around in the puddle plow drunk.
I am bored
with alcoholics
I am looking
for breathing holes
a new era of security
in desires
oh, even my
sleeves are running away
and unraveling
into shadows
I am bored
with alcoholics.
In such a hymn
they sit
and sound
crystal clear
you must greet
your way
yellow spirits
come out of your nose
from the
sucker leaves something opens
your conceited
soles
weigh the
wrong names
so joyfully
all heels snap for breath.
I am bored
with alcoholics
I am looking
for breathing holes
a new era of
security in desires
oh, even my
sleeves are running away
and unraveling
into shadows
I am bored
with alcoholics.
I wake up in
an anthill
I'm somewhere
else now
I went into
the forest
All the trains
have lost their tracks.
A drop of
blood for all eel lovers
runs through
my back
dolphins sing
from high clouds
in a final question
the question mark asks itself.
You have
searched for me in vain
I am no longer
here
I light
candles for your graves
I am yours
now.
I wake up in
an anthill
I'm somewhere
else now
I went into
the forest
All the trains
have lost their tracks.
Seventeen and
a chasm in front of moon
continental
plate node
vacuum echo
all the way
down.
You have
searched for me in vain
I am no longer
here
I light
candles for your graves
I am yours
now.
I am gone and
sleep a thousand years
the cry
freezes in your wounds
the beckon from the railings
the gills still apply away
only the joy of teeth
oh joy of white teeth
and July long ago drowned.
A drop of
blood for all eel lovers
runs through
my back
dolphins sing
from high clouds
in a final question
the question mark asks itself.
Somewhere else
somewhere else
somewhere else
I wake up in an anthill
and all the trains have lost their tracks.
If fame goes over your head
and you decorate yourself
more than nicely
your eyes
under the sun's cloud cover
not to mention
you eat yourself thin
so thin that the eggs
slide glacier avalanches
then you've
only cheated yourself.
Oh, woman if your lips are
in Led Zeppelin queue
and you empty
the fridge with a shovel
I can see it
in your eyes
the eggs fly out of the beaks
of the naughty birds
and everything screams shrilly
on the hobby sled, yeah
ask the saved
if they know
the fame of
fame, yeah yeah yeah.
Get a fan
patch
fan patch
fan patch
fan patch
get a fan
patch
rage raw on golden heels!
Eat barrels
of
visible dolphin signals
and wrap yourself
in blankets of sound
straws call
for you, call and call
you are a bim
to enjoy, yeah yeah
you are a bim
to enjoy.
Ask greed
about your mistakes
it will hardly linger
in its mega mountain
ask your inner self what it feels -
how it feels
a revolver
opens all moldy cracks
naughty woman you are
willing and joyful
something calls and calls
and it calls your name
yeah yeah yeah oh.
These are the
days I remember
Istedgade
stood and fluttered
from an empty apartment
filled with neon lights
your medicine
tongue had the snake's bite
we sat so
tightly
everything in
your life was a complete fraud
while you held
the python
the words
turned to glue
damn how thick
it was.
I remember it
all
I've been to
Copenhell
I've been there myself.
These are the
days I remember
I lay so close
to you, my hunger
was an empty apartment
filled with neon lights
my desperation
grew only stronger
we lay so
tightly
when he came back
from Christiania with dope
I lost my last
hope
the room
turned black
hanging from a
rope.
I remember it
all
I've been to
Copenhell
I've been there myself.
