1. |
Any Wronger
03:59
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ANY WRONGER
As soon as night fades, it closes in again
in this box with shabby shades
a muddy yearning my pressing friend - my pressing friend
A fleeting fervor haunting my ruins of satisfaction
whatever deconstruction takes place
it takes me along
on a dreamy trip at a pending pace
Don’t you stop that train
I know I’ll be in trouble again
let me watch the scenery a little longer
cause I know I won’t be any wronger
He felt me leaving but I was long gone
the leafless trees heavy with our tears
a gnawing feeling that I’d been wrong
an urgent truth bloating my fears
Yet don’t you stop that train
I know I’m already in trouble again
let me absorb the scenery a little longer
I know I won’t get any wronger
As I sit and trip - being carried away
the tracks don’t feel so bumpy.
For days I watch your butts in my ashtray
numb hearts can start to thump again
So, don’t you stop that train
I feel the trouble exciting again
let me breeze through the scenery a little longer
cause I know I’ve been wronger
Fran Dango
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2. |
John's Dad Has Gone
05:22
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JOHN'S DAD HAS GONE
John opens the tattered Mosquito screen door
the sun’s burning heat ringing the Freedom Bell in his inner core.
His grey eyes catching Mom’s stiff stare,
the trailer filled with tobacco fume, the glimmering TV screen.
Her shaking hand on the wineglass long before noon
He knows she senses his gaze but motionless she remains.
His toys, rotten wood, rusted beer cans, from the highway’s small ditch, next to the chain-link fence refusing him the wide open land.
He’ll tear it down one day to see what’s behind the hill,
to follow the call of the sun that every night, vanishes behind him.
His small shoulders in a Hanes tank tee too big for him
that hadn’t been white anymore when they bought it down at the Salvation Army store.
He flexes the muscles on his arm, wishing he could already be man, a good man for Mom.
John’s dad has gone
John’s dad has gone a long time ago
John’s dad has gone
but Mom couldn't be a dad for him
His personal Deli during the week -the vending machine in a laundry room at the campground straight across the highway on Route 42
The highlight of the month, the trip into the city with Mom.
The city where Dad lives, somewhere.
Roaming through the rows of WALMART, where they have everything...
knowing the colors of all beer cans, he took his choice already for the day when he turns 21.
There’re men coming around on certain nights, after dinner when Mom stays in the bathroom for a long time.
One of him - Lt. Smith of the Army Recruiting Office.
In his eyes a message, only for him,
and John knows he’ll be a good soldier, no wimp.
He’ll kick ass on NB Kitsap
but the first bullet will be reserved for Dad.
John’s dad has gone
John’s dad has gone a long time ago
John’s dad has gone
but Mom can not be a dad for him
Heiko HESH Schramm
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3. |
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Many years
together on the way
on Europe’s highways
Always sided by
the longing
for the streets of America
We all made it
through the Holland tunnel
into the big city
But never together
into the streets of America
Have a save trip ma friend
wherever you wanna go
have a good show ma friend
wherever you gonna play
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4. |
Drifting
02:43
|
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|
DRIFTING
Another sunrise
and I open my eyes
hardly knowing where I am
and where I’ve been.
Yesterday has left its mark
But I keep on drifting
out of the dark.
Roll the dice
maybe do it twice
so familiar
another surprise.
Slowly drifting through the void,
wishful thinking that
out of the blue
there’ll be something new.
Told myself to keep
my eyes on track.
Will I never ever
look back?
Still shifting
yet I’m drifting.
And I’ll lose sight
of the shore.
And I lose sight
once more.
Been stuck here and there
way too long.
Sick and tired
of the the same old song.
It’s what they tell you
keep on moving,
no more delay.
I’m drifting
I’m on a (the) way.
Fran Dango
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5. |
Al's Song
04:04
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|
Al’s Song
The world outside, bad news flying by.
I won’t tell you how you oughta live.
Just show you how other people do it
and how I steer my ship
I show you the boundary lines, the dangers, the fines.
Ire rises how can I accept to know, you’re headed for the future of a rotten now.
You won’t like to make up your mind
No matter what’ll happen in the end, you’ll wear the crown, my little friend.
No matter what’ll happen in the end, you’ll wear the crown, my little friend.
Oh, your name is Al, you ‘re my little tinkerbell.
Playgrounds at the zoo, on a skateboard ride with Lou
Throwing out your ego, in the world of lego.
You ‘re my little son, you always make me run.
With you on my side it’s ok to see the fireworks’ distant lights
haven’t been at the river for a while.
You help me to like the moon
as I’m sitting quietly in my room.
Next door, you sing yourself to sleep with the sound of my guitar
strumming you into the land of dreams.
Only when you’ve got there will it sound like the hard night of a man
Only when you’ve got there will it sound like the hard night of a man
Sometimes a twitch in me, back from the days when you conquered the playground in a whirl,
and couldn’t get in touch with a haughty little girl.
Your eyes gleaming with your queries
I kneel down, to be on par with you
face to face, fool to fool
Be man, as much as you can take on, my sweet little son.
Be man, as much as you can take on, my sweet little son.
Heiko HESH Schramm
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6. |
||||
|
INNER CITY LIGHTS
Turn on my inner city lights
illuminate these narrow streets
holding hidden homes and hearty heat
turned inward by raging suburb fights
Turn up my inner city lights
cross the river on the stony bridge
between New Joyfield and Old Pain Ridge
and watch the moon rise on warm October nights
Feed my inner city lights
down at the shady harbor
where our fiery sounds brim with glitzy fervor
and the dark and silent water reflects the ancient sights
Beware of these inner city lights
the traffic signals - stop and go
maneuvering a narcissistic flow
the dimly lit wasteland next to Fearful Heights
Let them shine, my inner city lights
down the winding veins of the railroad
and uphill, tracing the highways abroad
when I dream towards the red hot sunrise
Fran Dango
|
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7. |
||||
|
JOHN'S DAD HAS GONE
John opens the tattered Mosquito screen door
the sun’s burning heat ringing the Freedom Bell in his inner core.
His grey eyes catching Mom’s stiff stare,
the trailer filled with tobacco fume, the glimmering TV screen.
Her shaking hand on the wineglass long before noon
He knows she senses his gaze but motionless she remains.
His toys, rotten wood, rusted beer cans, from the highway’s small ditch, next to the chain-link fence refusing him the wide open land.
He’ll tear it down one day to see what’s behind the hill,
to follow the call of the sun that every night, vanishes behind him.
His small shoulders in a Hanes tank tee too big for him
that hadn’t been white anymore when they bought it down at the Salvation Army store.
He flexes the muscles on his arm, wishing he could already be man, a good man for Mom.
John’s dad has gone
John’s dad has gone a long time ago
John’s dad has gone
but Mom couldn't be a dad for him
His personal Deli during the week -the vending machine in a laundry room at the campground straight across the highway on Route 42
The highlight of the month, the trip into the city with Mom.
The city where Dad lives, somewhere.
Roaming through the rows of WALMART, where they have everything...
knowing the colors of all beer cans, he took his choice already for the day when he turns 21.
There’re men coming around on certain nights, after dinner when Mom stays in the bathroom for a long time.
One of him - Lt. Smith of the Army Recruiting Office.
In his eyes a message, only for him,
and John knows he’ll be a good soldier, no wimp.
He’ll kick ass on NB Kitsap
but the first bullet will be reserved for Dad.
John’s dad has gone
John’s dad has gone a long time ago
John’s dad has gone
but Mom can not be a dad for him
Heiko HESH Schramm
|
||||
8. |
||||
|
ANY WRONGER
As soon as night fades, it closes in again
in this box with shabby shades
a muddy yearning my pressing friend - my pressing friend
A fleeting fervor haunting my ruins of satisfaction
whatever deconstruction takes place
it takes me along
on a dreamy trip at a pending pace
Don’t you stop that train
I know I’ll be in trouble again
let me watch the scenery a little longer
cause I know I won’t be any wronger
He felt me leaving but I was long gone
the leafless trees heavy with our tears
a gnawing feeling that I’d been wrong
an urgent truth bloating my fears
Yet don’t you stop that train
I know I’m already in trouble again
let me absorb the scenery a little longer
I know I won’t get any wronger
As I sit and trip - being carried away
the tracks don’t feel so bumpy.
For days I watch your butts in my ashtray
numb hearts can start to thump again
So, don’t you stop that train
I feel the trouble exciting again
let me breeze through the scenery a little longer
cause I know I’ve been wronger
Fran Dango
|
||||
Blenderman Germany
Blenderman is Heiko Hesh Schramm & Fran Dango.
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