1. |
Break and burn
01:48
|
|||
|
Your heart is wearing a furcoat,
its feet bear icicle marks;
your mind is sunbathing madly,
its hands are waving at sharks.
The buttons are hard to get rid of
the toes tend to wander astray;
glasses are just a distraction,
fingers are fish on a tray.
Don’t you
wish to break it and burn
all the pieces that never fail to
daunt you.
Your heart is painting a blizzard,
its eyes like grateful sunbeams;
your mind is walking a tightrope,
its ears too far, so it seems.
Don’t you
wish to break it and burn
all the pieces that never fail to
daunt you.
|
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2. |
Your face
01:30
|
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|
It's true that I have seen your face
before,
it's true that I have held your hand
before,
but it's new that I may kiss your lips
and more...
You have never heard of me,
I guess,
and you have long forgotten us,
I guess,
but if You could be the only one
this mess
can't beat...
It's true that I have seen your face.
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
Don’t wait too long
in that eerie night,
with a glass in your hand,
silent, despite
the glass being empty
and the Moon being full.
Don’t think too long
of the crossroads missed,
with a map in your mind
of girls never kissed.
The heart may be heavy,
and the Moon still full,
pour your heart into
that glass in your hand,
drink it slowly,
don’t even try to pretend
that you could apply some filter,
the percentage of full Moon’s too high.
Don’t wait too long
in that eerie night,
with a glass in your hand,
silent, despite
the glass being empty,
the heart being drunk,
and the Moon always full.
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
Aim to be good,
that’s better than great;
aim to be more,
not deteriorate.
Aim to grow, it’s
the best form of winning;
aim to journey
the deepest within;
and dare to walk the path
dividing chaos and order.
Aim to listen
a hundred per cent;
aim to say
what you really meant.
Aim to act when
your conscience is on;
aim to stop what
the dragon feeds on.
Dare to walk the path
dividing chaos and order
|
||||
5. |
The Wave
02:22
|
|||
|
Your voice is near,
that ancient new,
it cannot disappear
in the Big Old Blue
waves.
Your voice is clear,
that ancient true,
and now we can hear
the Big Old Blue
waves.
Your voice is here,
the ancient You,
deep, strong and dear
Big Old Blue
Wave
|
||||
6. |
The monster
01:04
|
|||
|
The monster opened his mouth,
he was shaking with genuine fear,
for he had apparently never been
to a dentist so near.
The dentist opened his eyes,
he was smiling from ear to ear,
for he had admittedly never had
a nightmare so dear.
|
||||
7. |
Freeze and melt
02:37
|
|||
|
She took off her glasses,
I put down my glass…
some sweet temptation
came over us.
She asked me a question,
I heard a request,
a warm invitation
from inside my chest.
Then we moved and felt
we could stay still so long…
So we stayed to freeze and melt.
She put on her glasses,
I refilled my glass,
a year’s sensations
came over us.
She asked me no question,
I heard no request,
nor sweet hesitation.
That’s all for the best.
Then we moved and felt
we couldn’t stay still. So long..
So we moved to freeze and melt.
|
||||
8. |
Returned
02:52
|
|||
|
The Moon is gone,
dreams have been replaced
in your eyes.
The spell is gone,
words have been reformed
in your mouth.
The tune is gone,
notes have been removed
from your sighs.
The light is gone,
stones have been released
from your doubts.
The gone is here,
love shall be returned
to the skies.
|
||||
9. |
||||
|
You know, she had a thousand faces,
and he was in love with each one of them.
Now, that he's no longer at the races,
once in a while he recalls some of them.
like
when she was wrapped up in her drawing,
when she argued with her hair;
when she felt a letter pausing,
when she found the blue unfair.
when she tamed the ukelele,
when she heard some crazy line;
when she was dazed in the alley,
when she waltzed over with wine.
You see, she had a thousand faces,
and he was in love with each one of them.
Now, that he's no longer at the races,
once in a while he recalls some of them.
like
when she came across a spider,
when she failed to sneeze;
when she turned into a writer,
when she played her vocal knees.
when she grimaced for the Sun,
when she picked a lucky shirt;
when she let the horses run,
when she refused to have dessert.
You see, she had a thousand faces,
and he was in love with each one of them.
Now, that he's no longer at the races,
once in a while he recalls some of them.
like
when she dropped a glass of laughter,
when she created a new dish;
when she read about the rafter,
when she opened a "You wish".
when she bumped into a kitten,
when she could nonchalantly guess;
when she wept the daylight hidden,
when she silently said yes.
You know, she had a thousand faces,
and he was in love with each one of them.
Now, that she dreams of different places,
he's still in love with every single one of them.
|
||||
10. |
Yesterday's Moon
02:22
|
|||
|
There are places You haven't left,
there are times when I see You
at those places You haven't left
from moving pictures to still...
There are traces of You I discover
again and I feel You
in those traces I rediscover
I'm choosing moments to spill...
from yesterday's Moon
into today's.
|
||||
11. |
||||
|
Do You sleep enough, my dear
and your dreams are made of feather?
Do You wake up with the Sun in
synchronized beaming?
Do You then embrace the moments,
the joyous and the broken?
Do You go to bed serene,
grateful for what's been?
Do You live enough, my dear,
and your days are made of silver?
|
||||
12. |
||||
|
She’s so fond of drawing portraits,
attention – not so much;
armed with a book, a red pencil
and a truly wonderful touch.
Trams are her favourite ground,
natural lights and all,
faces blessed with unusual
features are likely to fall.
How original and true are
the stories they tell
with their eyes and wrinkles,
through the magic spell
of the girl on the tram with a red pencil.
|
||||
13. |
||||
|
Woke up to the very same sunbeam,
we took sighful turns to say
I can't believe this, I thought we'd
never make will out of may.
Went to sleep to the very same moonlight,
didn't need any dreams to feel gay,
life was a wonderful gift we'd
embrace and re-open each day.
|
||||
14. |
The cobbler's heart
01:42
|
|||
15. |
||||
Bardócz L. Csaba Keszthely, Hungary
Bardócz L. Csaba derűs-boros-tücskös-holdas-tündéres-felhős-szíves-szédülős-tükrös-csavaros-teás-angyalos dalokat
ír.
Gitárra kitárva.
Vonaton, kávézóban, kanapén, padon, felhőn. Pardon.
Magyarul, angolul.
Mikor elkezd írni, ő is kíváncsian várja, mi lesz a vége.
Mikor már tudja, hogy mi, szívesen előadja.
A dalok között és után örömmel beszélget.
Fotó-báj:
Ungor Richárd
... more
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