1. |
The Deer
04:10
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Find me within arm’s length. Distance is desire. Secrets underneath your skin, if they well up I’ll take them in. My hand floats on the surface of your body ever new. Follow birthmarks with my finger to find the woman you are or I have figured. If you speak without talking, I'll sing without words until the fleeting hours of the morning.
There are tears to fill your palms - longing for the size of a lake. The space, here in between us, is a place to set on fire. I know that we are different. I want us to be free. You smiled a hundred smiles today: some remind of leaving, others stayin’. If you speak without talking, I'll sing without words until the fleeting hours of the morning, await the new day we'll be born in.
It’s your eye, your eyes dam great dark waters. On my mind the pines of a sparkling forest. When your voice, your voice sings the chorus, my heart is kind of like that deer panting for streams of water.
One day I'll stop running, bow my head and rest. Drink from what the well for me offers inexhaustibly. For now I can’t stop moving, we’re changin’ all time. Trying to play the truth of what I am. Catch me, catch me if I can. It’s your eye …
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2. |
Mask of Glass
04:23
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My skin, my flesh, my skull, my brain; the plans I make, most of them in vain. Life brings me the songs I sing for you, splendidly hidden under. How can I ever find a way to break this mask?
Love and confusion, order and wildness; somewhat delusion, anger and kindness. Bits of make-up, memories, lots of blindness, too, lay down underneath … How can I ever find a way to break this mask of glass?
Your hand slides slowly in low light. We dance, noiseless, through this old night. Your skin, your blush, your blood, your gaze … Way too long we have been on our own, spinning ‘round through muted days. Tonight we ‘ll leave this masquerade and watch the world turn glass.
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3. |
Gloria
03:56
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The girl in the white shirt stands next to a fire. 32 years old and a couple of holes in the armour. A porous inside: who would want to live without? It’s a beautiful world, to take in and to spill out.
A pure heart is a white shirt and all colours underneath: things like these the boy gives his mind to feed. Taintless love, guess he’s better off without. What a shook up world, to take in and to turn around. We found one another. Here’s where you got a start.
Gloria, It’s always light. Gloria, Or we wouldn’t need night. Child, child, Sunshine’s coming.
The girl and the boy ‘re standing by the window. Thirty something and the wind blows in spring.
A view outside: who would want to live without? A whole wide world to take in and to spill out. We will find one another, my future girl. Gloria …
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4. |
April
03:35
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When I wake up it’s April. Delicately rendered, fleeting, fragile, beautiful April. I throw back the curtain, a blackbird flies off the window sill in April. The fresh smell of coffee pulls you out of the night to the table. I kiss you good morning, let the rain do the talking in April.
Tomorrow I will have heard you say: ‘I think of leaving, every other day. I’ll pack my doubts and go away’
Not now, not yet, when I awake in April. Fleeting, fragile, beautiful, cruel April. Tomorrow …
There was a time I hated spring. How could I keep hating the nature of things? If it was you by that window sill. Fly, fly and take your doubts and go away.
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5. |
Valuable
03:33
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Get up, get it, come on, unlock it. Get it on, get it in, come on and move in. Leave all behind and bring your camera along. Leave it all out of your mind and let’s get rollin’. You paint her skin, picture her ways and come to stay. They say: ‘What she offers you is valuable, but it’s not worth the chaos she’ll be causing. What she offers you is valuable, but beware of the damage she ‘ll do to you.’
Don’t close it, shut down and stay in your corner. She won’t lay low, relax or tend to old business. Take a train to new ground and drive ahead of time. When time begins to move again no need to look behind. You take a thousand pictures: image of the years. Sometimes you fear: ‘What she offers me is valuable, but is it worth the chaos she’s causing? What she offers me is valuable and I am well aware of the harm she can do to me.’
She never slows down on you, Never fell down to the ground or dropped you at some corner; tells you what’s right, she still wants you to do it tonight.
You say: ‘What she offers me is valuable and it’s all worth the chaos she's causing. What she offers me is valuable. We didn’t count the harm we have done to each other. What she offers me is valuable and it’s all worth the chaos we’re causing. What she has got is intangible. Now it is all possibility.
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6. |
More Than a Minute
03:59
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My watch and your earring - that shiny silver feather -, a blue suede glove, the right hand. Dead phones and passwords, your key to the house, a coat that felt like home. Where did everything go? Why did I forget? When things go missing, I want to believe all will be found.
I lost you for more than a minute. My heart is a house, with more than one room. I feel lost and found out of place.
Sit down and eat with me, if you have a minute - the clock will stop ticking. Sunlight on a knife, reflection on a spoon: will anything turn my world around soon? I lost you …
Hey girl, I’ll take the medicine, do the talking, shine my shoes, a new day’s sparking, somewhere. Put on makeup, cut my hair, style a new moral, pretend a flair.
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7. |
Waterloo
04:46
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La pluie a vernis ma ville. Elle brille sous un soleil blanc. Dans le bar où je suis assis les regards sont mats; ou c’est peut-être juste moi. Qui n'est pas un étranger, pour l’une ou l’autre raison. Pour qui vient d'ici et d'ailleurs, le cœur est changeant comme le temps. C’est la joie et la douleur que je ressens. La fille qui brille dans ma vie, elle me dit: ‘Bruxelles, Bruxelles, c’est trop de Jackson Pollock’.
Je m’en vais à Waterloo. Où entre les japonais et l’esprit de Napoléon il y a le vent violent.
Le long du Mont des Arts, Marat dans son bain, les échafaudages qui soutiennent les échafaudages. Les parapluies repliés, et les visages cachés dans les manteaux sur l’Avenue Louise. Ils sont lents ou rapides, ils ont l’air splendides, hésitants, décidés ou le cœur éclaté. Ils sont plus de mille, mais je ne cherche que ton ombre flottante quand je roule dans cet endroit semi-fini, tous les chantiers, tous les papiers, les déchirés, nos demi-pensées, nos amours à mi-chemin abandonnées.
Je m’en vais à Waterloo … Je vais regarder ce qui reste de la terre après la défaite; regarder ce qui reste de moi.
Arbre après arbre les images ralentissent, les sons s’allongent et les feuilles, plus de feuilles couvrent la ville. Dans la forêt, il commence à pleuvoir des rayons de soleil. Dans mes yeux, il commence à pleuvoir des rayons de soleil. Qui, comme les rayons de mes roues, accélèrent, tournent de plus en plus vite dans l’air de moins en moins lourd. Dans ce moulin de lumière, je pédale vers Waterloo … Bruxelles, Bruxelles, je suis loin de toi, loin de moi, oui c’est ça. Le docteur a dit que c’est vrai: je t’aime encore tu sais.
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8. |
Pullover
03:05
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Walter writes, Walter looks over rooftops and backyards, where every now and then a dog barks. He hasn’t seen a human being in those gardens for fifty years. From his window Walter sees in the big pine tree how many a dove builds its nest. Not only he finds that amusing to watch. Walter wakes a harsh winter scene on a hot summer day, or to put it in another way: how one can lead more than one life in a house by a big pine tree. I’m living by a big pine, too. Walter said: ‘I’m getting older. Getting older is no different than’
Depends on the narrowness of the neckline, but there is always a point when you feel a bit tight. You can't see anything. You have to push through. Then there is fresh air and light again. Walter said: ‘I’m getting older. Getting older is no different than putting on a pullover.’
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Messidor Brussels, Belgium
Ward Daenen harvesting music with Maarten Moesen (SK Carlens, Guido Belcanto) and Bert Hornikx (Astronaute).
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