He was in his room, half awake, half asleep
The walls of the room seem to alter angles
Elongating and shrinking alternately
Then twisting around completely so that he was on the opposite side of the room
A trick of the light and too much caffeine, he thought
Then came a knock on the door
And this sound was the same dark-brown tone as the wood of which the door was made
At first, he thought he'd imagined it
Because it would not have been out of place with the other strange hallucinatory events of that
night
But then it came again
Only heavier this time
With a sense of real urgency
So pulling himself up
And stepping through pools of moonlight and shadow
He made his bleary way across the room towards the door
And slowly, apprehensively, raised the latch
The latch became a fingertip, touching his own
Energy sapping as a new form, transversing the edge of his emotions
His power became his agony, his power knew no bounds
Whereas before, his peace withstood the vastness
His prerogative became an endless force of the all impossible
His final soul is flying with contempt only
Even the legendary glance backward to meet with eternity's stone in peace or save his already
destroyed
You cannot share, the temperature is rising
The ghost and monkeys make a choice
This...
This...
He tried to will himself back to bed
He wanted desperately to feel the reassuring crisp, white sheets once taken for granted
To be back home, safe as houses, protected by walls covered in familiar patterns
But even wallpaper had become sinister to him
He remembered staring into the paisley print and seeing a repetition of skulls
At night he would listen to the click of heels on the concrete outside
And try to imagine the facial features of the unseen figure
He would always see his own face
And another realization of this prophecy rang terrible and true
For at this moment, it was indeed, his own feet that filled the shoes
Shoes that no man would want to wear
Into the hills then to search for another searcher's closely held goals
Into the forest under the billowing leaves
Under the dreadful birds, the singing soil, the decrepid babies, the unhappy new loves
The preaching alphabutics, the long-lost lovers never to find the safety of their mothers
In fact, all the guilty clouds he will move into a playground
A sense of moonlight and shadow
All the stars touch to the cold molten sunflower, fly to his middle eye
The wallpaper had sinister tones
Alas, white cold
Alas, rainbow's middle infinity's destination.
All life's drums drink from bottles and visioins are blinded
The walls of the room seem to alter angles
Elongating and shrinking alternately
Then twisting around completely so that he was on the opposite side of the room
A trick of the light and too much caffeine, he thought
Then came a knock on the door
And this sound was the same dark-brown tone as the wood of which the door was made
At first, he thought he'd imagined it
Because it would not have been out of place with the other strange hallucinatory events of that
night
But then it came again
Only heavier this time
With a sense of real urgency
So pulling himself up
And stepping through pools of moonlight and shadow
He made his bleary way across the room towards the door
And slowly, apprehensively, raised the latch
His power became his agony, his power knew no bounds
Whereas before, his peace withstood the vastness
His prerogative became an endless force of the all impossible
His final soul is flying with contempt only
Even the legendary glance backward to meet with eternity's stone in peace or save his already
destroyed
You cannot share, the temperature is rising
The ghost and monkeys make a choice
This...
This...
He wanted desperately to feel the reassuring crisp, white sheets once taken for granted
To be back home, safe as houses, protected by walls covered in familiar patterns
But even wallpaper had become sinister to him
He remembered staring into the paisley print and seeing a repetition of skulls
At night he would listen to the click of heels on the concrete outside
And try to imagine the facial features of the unseen figure
He would always see his own face
And another realization of this prophecy rang terrible and true
For at this moment, it was indeed, his own feet that filled the shoes
Shoes that no man would want to wear
Into the forest under the billowing leaves
Under the dreadful birds, the singing soil, the decrepid babies, the unhappy new loves
The preaching alphabutics, the long-lost lovers never to find the safety of their mothers
In fact, all the guilty clouds he will move into a playground
A sense of moonlight and shadow
All the stars touch to the cold molten sunflower, fly to his middle eye
The wallpaper had sinister tones
Alas, white cold
Alas, rainbow's middle infinity's destination.
All life's drums drink from bottles and visioins are blinded
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what a song it is like a strange nightmare and is really freeky The latch became a fingertip, touching his own this like just freaked me out when i heard it
There is a big similarity between this and "The man with X-Ray Eyes":
"His power became his agony, his power knew no bounds" -
"and we have gone so desperate your power know no bounds" [from The Man With X-Ray Eyes]
"Under the dreadful birds, the singing soil, the decrepid babies, the unhappy new loves The preaching alphabutics, the long-lost lovers never to find the safety of their mothers In fact, all the guilty clouds he will move into a playground " -
"into the borrowed course under the dreadful birds under the singing soil and all those guilty clouds" [from The Man With X-Ray Eyes]
And the "shoes that no man would want to wear" thing.
This song and others is heavily inspired by the Velvet Underground. In particular “the Gift” from White Light/ White Heat. John Cale narrates a darkly comedic story over the band playing a constant groove. The way this song is delivered with the pleasent deadpan English accent in a matter of fact fashion that John Cale used on “the Gift”. This tale is less comedic, twisted and dark. Leaving you with the same feeling of having heard a good ghost story. The subject of the story is experiencing something close to a haunting with heavy psychological effects. It feels like that liminal place in your sleep between waking and dreaming. I was waiting for a shadow man to appear maybe even wearing a fedora at any moment.
This song and others is heavily inspired by the Velvet Underground. In particular “the Gift” from White Light/ White Heat. John Cale narrates a darkly comedic story over the band playing a constant groove. The way this song is delivered with the pleasent deadpan English accent in a matter of fact fashion that John Cale used on “the Gift”. This tale is less comedic, twisted and dark. Leaving you with the same feeling of having heard a good ghost story. The subject of the story is experiencing something close to a haunting with heavy psychological effects. It feels like that liminal place in your sleep between waking and dreaming. I was waiting for a shadow man to appear maybe even wearing a fedora at any moment.
what a song it is like a strange nightmare and is really freeky The latch became a fingertip, touching his own this like just freaked me out when i heard it
Miss Avalanche you are onto something. The Man With The X-Ray Eyes is based off the movie 'X' which I haven't seen. Great song.
Unrelated note, people at school call me Professor Avalanche. Sisters of Mercy fucking rock.
this isn't exactly a song it is more like a quick dark story, i've found out that it's common of bauhaus to do this, like joy division's songs which where more like poems than songs.
it's a great job i'm not arguing that, it makes you feel that you're the men whos being described by the words, but as i said before it's not exactly a song.