Damit keine Verwechslung mit meinem Blog entsteht ist hier nur die "normale" Schreibkammer, in der ich Geschichten und auch mal eventuell was Lyrisches veröffentliche.

Der erste Beitrag ist zur Abwechslung einmal keine Fantasygeschichte meinerseits, sondern Songtexte. Ich arbeite nämlich momentan an einem Bandprojekt, das provisorisch "Ghost Of The Philosopher" getauft wurde und habe ein paar erste Textpassagen dazu entworfen, falls wir einmal eine EP aufnehmen sollten.

Hoffentlich gefällt euch das Resultat

Actually not an ordinary day
I ? The Colourful Spectrum Of The Dream?s Abysmal Void
II ? Ceci n?est pas un mirroir
An imploding black hole of shattered impressions
Throwing me back through the wistful caverns of my mind
Towards the flickering light behind the eyelids quivering from deception
My consciousness taking place in this tight, restricting body of mankind

Droning voice
Overwhelming me
Droning voice
Echoes in the depths
Droning voice
Enslaving me
Droning voice
Tearing your thoughts
Droning Voice
Dragging me
Droning voice
Into chains

Wild homework and trivial problems
Blended in this spinning black hole
Recreated by the own debts and the systems
Flying around between the two poles

I
Rise

The voice
Rising

Climbing
Into
The
Mist
Wafting
Around
My
Awareness

The fingers of the faded dream
Grabbing me and still holding their realm
Spreading their ruins into the reality
Staggering I nearly cause a fatality

The bathroom
Of drowned aspirations
Repeating yesterday
And not burying it

My hand groping
Into the darkness
The gloom enlightening
The awareness

Watching itself
Realizing

III ? Moving backwards

Running out home?s meadows
Clothed in these superficial brands
Manufactured by the world?s decaying hand
The black hole in the mind grows

Taking the two kilometres to the bus
Not the only innocent laughing inconvenience
In this absurd place full of fuss

Car
Driving through
This forlorn pit
Hiding his true face

Memories
Passing by
Like screaming flashlight
Of a grinning slideshow

Taking a seat between these slumbering wanderers
Starting a journey into the uprising night

IV ? The Inner Conflict Between This Calculable World And The Randomness

Walking in this basement full of growing lights
Some brighter, some darker
Probabilities are on the plan

You
Are
Going
To
Live
67,07 years

There?s nothing much time left
Buy a house
And marry this hardly handsome
Lady from your neighbourhood

Not necessarily in this order

But beware
You may divorce
Every 3th marriage
Is a fatal fault

Even your honeymoon could
Cause this awkward condition
Named Death

You could have this big chance of
0 0,00000007% to die in a plane crash

And you would become
A number

The Butterfly-Effect
The Chaos-Theory
The Rare Earth-Hypothesis

But there is always
This little randomness
Left

This little moment
Capricious
Isolated from all these numbers

This little moment
Throwing all these numerous numberers
Into desperation

This little moment
Making us human
Not reachable

This encounter
This accident
This idea
This cataclysm
This unforeseeable factor of telling a good joke

But in a world which is build of numbers
And calculations
This moment doesn?t have a place.

Nevertheless I suddenly laughed
And he appeared.

V ? Hieranarchy

Thunder
Striking
Through
The
Chaotic
Hall

Not
Actually
Valhalla
As we know it
But
Never mind

The self-proclaimed master walking through the endless rows
Scornful eyes burning behind two round walls of glasses
His aura of wrongfully acquired force following him
Befouling the spheres around him with fear and oppression

?You know that I am above you and you beneath me??

The eternal laws of this domain
Gaoling the human condition itself

?I don?t acclaim any form of hierarchy.?

The subliminal control
In every aspect
Limiting

?Why??

Religion
State
School

Punishment

The own mind is a prisoner

?Because I?m an anarchist.?

An utopy
Of a world
Without restrictions
Only lead
By the reason
The final freedom
An oneiric project
Annihilated since eons
Before it even started

?So it will hurt you less.?

The pillar of hierarchy
Saved from the anarchy

The choice of the loafers
For whom the freedom is a cage

There
Is
No
(Ab)solution