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1. |
Burning Your God
01:32
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Laid you down. On the same bed.
The very bed where you spoke of god.
Where we first got caught.
Pulling petals from my mouth, from your fingers, your eyes. There’s no telling the tide.
It’s a shivering below
The boats in the harbour.
The kids in the park.
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2. |
Evening All Day Long
03:04
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Drew my number. There will be no expectations.
Dragged from underneath the bed. Thrown into a blue sunset. Shoulder to shoulder. There will be no celebration. There will be no conversation.
Someone told me there will be no transformation.
We are leaning without breaking it. We were freezing when our bodies fit. Now we’re shining like diamonds.
There will be no recognition. There will be no safe position.
And tonight I wanted to feel just like you. There will be no revelation. But when we meet there will be no hesitation.
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3. |
Who Do You Love?
02:00
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The house and the furniture went to your sister. The books and the diaries went to your brother. I am wondering now. What did you take? Did you go to the oceanside with your best friend? He’s like a statue, so fearless and strong. Did you watch him run and tumble through the waves?
I am waiting. Who do you love?
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4. |
Poet’s Mouth
02:58
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Tonight the dogs are barking in the yard. And I’m raging. But it’s wasted. What they want is for someone to tell them. What they want is for someone to love them regardless of.
There’s no music in the hospital. There’s no light wind, no secrets, no rain. In the
hallway filled with equipment. The light from the moon made it all clear. We were so disappointed when nothing unravelled here.
Pull your love out and be weightless. Just weightless.
I waited for the night. I waited for the sunlight to return. Softer at daybreak. But today just arrived like an earthquake. Pulled in threads and wires from beneath the ground. Tucked in smoke and waves of sound. Tonight on cat’s paws we head out. Unhinged, hiding from the poet’s mouth.
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5. |
Hi Mom
01:25
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6. |
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I waited for you in the faculty lounge. No threats are made, it’s all forgotten now. Kids we pass by are waving to us. All in the spirit of the revolution.
You ask me how we can build a monument. A body that is solid and calm. A body that is humble and pure. I stood with my bare hands and blocks of concrete and waited for the spirit of the revolution.
Left the papers on the floor and left the bed unmade and went down into the street to be with everyone. Beneath the lights, beneath the wires. With the sorrowful orchestras and this taste like when you were six years old.
Then the sun burst out on a clearing in the park. It was calling out the creatures of the dark. They’ve been starving for years beneath the surface. Now they’re crowding all the bodies of the revolution.
I walked beside you as the crowd it went away. I walked beside you on that second day. Through craters and gardens, speak to me softly. You see, I want you in the spirit of the revolution.
We gathered flowers for the chosen one. We lift him up, we replace his eyes with sapphires. But he’s the same. Torn apart within. But such beautiful skin. Pulled from the fire.
I waited for you in the faculty lounge. No threats are made, it’s all forgotten now. I took my bike to the waterfront reservoir. I tried, tried, tried to wrap my arms around the strangest notion of my fat body on the verge of some kind of revolution.
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7. |
Final Day
03:14
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Grey eyes, the lights are alive down at the harbour. Grey eyes, violence broke out down at the harbour.
Turned off the lights, went down to the courtyard, broke the hinges at the gate. Walked around with snow to my ankles, felt it give beneath my weight.
Beneath a cathedral of eyes. I hold no echo, no surprise. Well, where are your brothers? And where are your sisters?
On the final day the reverend and the sparrow will have nothing to repent. On the final day music will blare out from your upstairs apartment.
Celeste, the wires are showing, the wine is flowing, your eyes are glowing and I know that our movie will be more beautiful than anything ever seen. But now I feel so tired. So can we please just carry each other home?
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8. |
In The Parlor
03:12
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I’m waiting in line, waiting in line, waiting in line.
Crouching in the corner there. Or in a swarm of moths. I’m closing in on everyone. In the parlor the light changes so fast. I nodded and asked if the moment could last.
A harsh winter’s rash. Skin is coming off at the eyelids, the shoulders, the neck and the knees. When we parted on the street. Fumbled, then agreed to cut off our fingers. Cut off our hands. Always racing through the barricades. Always staring at the sun. Bright, tight foreverdrum.
In my head you’re asleep and your skin’s turned to glass. Unrecognizable, lying on the grass. Like a remnant of some old, foreign blast. So strange and colossal, but already passed.
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9. |
The Mansion (Fireworks)
01:24
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10. |
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Summer and all through the fall. In the mansion I waited for your call. The puppies have all grown weary and old. The signs are carefully laid out: the bones and the ice on the trails. And someone wants to taste your blood. In the dark for several years, you’ve wanted to know how it feels. To see through the lies, to just wake up and rise. But in the mansion shadows are clouding your eyes.
Look up, the sky is like an ocean. Look up, the sky is just a mirror. A blanket wrapped around the park. You saw the bright reflection of torches on the west wall. Now it’s raining on an open lawn. This is where we buried the dog. Where silence grew from its paws. You were stroking its fur and caressing its bones. And imagining we would go laughing through it all. When the doors to the mansion are shut and a gathering is waiting in the hall.
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11. |
End Song
03:19
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So much lighter in the end. Did we sleep? Did we dream? Did I give you all my best? A walk around the bend. We’re alive, we’re alive. The apartment is a mess. You’re sleeping like a stone. You were blue in the morning, you were blue in the afternoon again. I wanted you to see the sun that enters at your door.
Your revolutionary mind. You are safe when your brothers are looking out for you. And you remember mom and dad. In the dark, in the shades, they’re unhappy and untrue. There were riots in the park. You came out on the balcony, beholding the spectacles beneath. I wanted them to see the sun that enters at your door.
So, was it happiness we felt? To wake up with a song, with a verb and a noun. Was the story easy to tell? To wake up, tasting blood in a hospital gown. With nurses everywhere and the harsh disappointment of the light being flashed into my eyes. I wanted it to be the sun that enters at your door. I just wanted it to be the sun that enters at your door.
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The New Spring Copenhagen, Denmark
The New Spring is the moniker of Copenhagen-based singer-songwriter Bastian Kallesøe.
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