The Jester
I'm the one who casts that dark shadow deep inside of you,
when you think you got rid of me, I jump out of the blue.
My art of seduction is subtle, I'm just telling what's true,
you'll side with me simply 'cause you know now what to do.
If you want to be the king of the game -
just do it, grab the crown in my name.
I can make a mask, and your face will grow to fit it,
but once you join my game you're not allowed to quit it.
You can shine in all the power and the glory,
just leave that life of yours at my soul depository.
Ending
Well I wish today is the day I take your soul,
but geez! you're a trickster, hiding an ace in the hole.
You denied the crown, took the role of the jester instead,
running me down as a cartoon on your scribbling pad.
(Unused Verses)
When you're tested by your qualms, I whisper in your ears,
I make a pledge to everything you wanna hear.
I'm your gardener, you are my seeds,
just do it, string my prayer beads.
Head for the crown, try to be king,
just do it, allowed is everything.
Painting: Paul Klee, The Devil juggles.
„He wears a mask, and his face will grow to fit it.” - George Orwell
„Just do it.” - Nike Inc.
Words & Music: Michael Michaelis
Michael: Vocals, Guitars, Bass, Violin & Viola, Cymbals & HiHat, Wave Drum (Bass Drum, Snare).
Recorded, edited, and mixed proudly using Cubase.
(Last Update: 20.4.2017)
[All Rights reserved. © Michael Michaelis, 2017]
Palimpsest (Songtext)
There was a little garden behind my childhood home,
an enchanted place, a little world of it's own,
it was a sacred site, I buried a treasure there,
but I can't remember what and where.
The first time I heard that song I was all alone,
a stranger spoke to me I'd always known,
this music is a true companion for many years,
but I can't remember what once made me blink back tears.
Wish I could remember the first time I saw your face,
but that memory is just the center of a tangling maze,
I remember it's alleys, I walk them every now and then,
I circle it's center again and again.
Refrain
Memories are like a canvas, over-painted many times,
like a line of poetry, twisted and bended until it rhymes,
they feel real, but they're just a state of mind,
the past hides a truth you'll never find.
Persistence (Melting Clocks)
Music: Michael Michaelis
Michael: Guitar, Piano, Bass, Cymbals & HiHat, Wave Drum (Bass Drum, Snare), Percussion (Shaker, Darbuka, Rainmaker), Synthesizer- and Sequencer Programming.
Recorded, edited, and mixed proudly using Cubase.
(Last Update: 11.2.2017)
[All Rights reserved. © Michael Michaelis, 2017]
Persistence
The sheet above fixates an improvisation I recently did on my guitar. I couldn't find a pulse for what I was doing, so the result looks like kind of a construct of excessive overthinking. It isn't.
The theme reminds me on a picture of Salvador Dalí, „Melting Watches“ - the music will fit pretty well into my „Paintings“-Project.
Red Lights Behind
Different places, some dark, some light,
good or bad, wrong or right,
but it's not up to you to decide,
you can't place yourself on either side.
Where you'll go is in the blind,
all you see is red lights behind,
when moving fast all you want is look ahead,
but a blurred image of the past is all you get.
There is an angel, a storm blowing into her face,
a storm coming from the past at disturbing pace,
she's bowed down in mourning sorrow,
'cause all she wants is to turn around, to catch a sight of tomorrow.
That angel is falling thru time,
(same destiny as yours or mine,)
all she wants is to look ahead,
all she sees are the ashes of the past instead.
[Verses 3+4 are paraphrasingWalter Benjamin's remarks on a painting of Paul Klee, “Angelus Novus”.]
Words & Music: Michael Michaelis
Michael: Vocals, Acoustic Guitars, Violin (String Sections), Piano, Bass, Cymbals & HiHat, Wave Drum (Bass Drum, Snare), Percussion (Caxixi, Tambourine, Bamboo Cata).
Recorded, edited, and mixed proudly using Cubase.
(Last Update: 26.12.2016)
[All Rights reserved. © Michael Michaelis, 2016]
Gravity
Got some old books, telling stories about alien races,
wondrous worlds, distant places,
thought I can go there before I die,
but I'm still stuck with a car that cannot fly.
Machines were meant to get rid of hard work's pain,
but the blue-collar worker became a puppet on a chain,
once automated brooms start sweeping the floor,
you're the sorcerer's apprentice, and can't stop them anymore.
Internet turned everyone into a transmitter,
mass media debunked as counterfeiter.
Pretty soon big money jumped in and pulled the plug,
speak up now, and you'll be fixed like any bug.
I dreamed of a black man as president of the USA,
thought I'll never live to see that day,
thought he certainly would right a wrong, or two,
can't believe he turned out a third rate actor, too.
Refrain
There is a place where the future died in agony,
dreams pulled back by it's gravity.
There's a graveyard where all good intentions rest,
once embraced so hard, shrouded corpses now, at best.
Words & Music: Michael Michaelis
Michael: Vocals, Guitars, Violin, Bass, Cymbals & HiHat, Wave Drum (Snare, Toms, Bass Drum), Percussion (Shaker, Tambourine)
Recorded, edited, and mixed proudly using Cubase.
(Last Update: 22.10.2016)
[All Rights reserved. © Michael Michaelis, 2016]