In the album's
booklet no lyrics were printed, because most of them are not
up-to-date in covering the way I feel about the entire album and
the way the songs connect to each other.
So instead, I
wrote a short story. You can find lines in it referring to the
songs, and the story is running parallel to the tracklist. Below
you can read its first two pages.
"There was one day a young man sitting on the grass
beside the small lake in the park, gazing around, with a strange,
absent look in his eyes, now and then plucking the strings of an
old guitar. It all looked like he belonged there, like he’d been
there for ages. The people walking there and sitting on the benches in
the sunshine, feeding the ducks, seemed only to find his presence
enjoyable, and he never bothered them or asked for money.
In the passing of time the
young man’s skills on the guitar improved, and he started singing
also. His voice had a melancholic quality, but it was at the same
time soothing, and it was a warm voice, but it could also sting
your very soul.
There were at many days
girls spending a nice sunny afternoon in the park, lying on the
green grass, and they were somehow attracted to him. He could lure
them into his web of musical threads, and they were then
irrevocably stuck in there, and they were hypnotized by his voice,
only becoming aware of their – seemingly pleasant – fate as soon
as it was too late for them to turn back. At the end of the day
there was always one that walked with him up to his house, and
stepped inside after him, and then the door was closed.
Never was he seen with a
girl he had met the week, or the month, or the year before. Not
that the girls disappeared. They always picked back up their
lives, and after a while they all returned to their former self,
little changed by this brief period of absence from the real world
– nothing bad or painful had happened to them, just not very
‘usual’ – and they started to forget. And he, in his own world,
forgot about every single one of them.
Then one day came, and
starting like any other, it promised to be a fine sunny day in the
park. The young man was sitting there singing and playing his
guitar, and the day was growing old, when a red-haired girl walked
up to him, and sitting down beside him on the grass she looked at
him with a clear face with piercing bright eyes, of a beauty he
could never have imagined in all his years of exploring his inner
world of fantasy. Then she sang along with him, and he was
becoming thoroughly enchanted by her voice singing, and he was in
his own turn caught by it, pinned down like a collector of
butterflies caught and pinned down by a giant butterfly. Evening
fell, and she walked with him up to his home, and at the doorstep
she simply kissed him once, said ‘goodbye’, and left."
