From the recording MOONSTONE
...she's still standing there ~
She left her house
She left her home
The mountains, fields and streams to roam
A million books and nineteen chairs
Fridge and Stove and Bed to share
Bed to share...
Purpose gone, the house is stale
The wooden ashes in a pale
There's dust and memories and pain
No time to lose, so much to gain
Much to gain...
And every night, there's wine or beer
And sitting on the couch right here
Staring at computer screens
The silence is too much, it seems
Much it seems...
So our there is uncertainty
The friends of friends just seem to be
Luna moth, circling round
Illusive light bulbs, hanging out,
Night is endless, sadness lingers
Darkness fingers cling around
Sleeplessness and wildish thoughts
Nightmares gallop towards sunrise
Never to arrive...
Anxious weariness persists
Turn the wrist and check the time
Unbeknownst the clock is ticking
Embers glow, a cigarette's flicking
Ashes off its end...
Slowly someone walks away
As night turns weary into day
Too hard to bear, too cold to trust
Blinding sunlight kills the lust
Kills the lust...
Exhaustion trades with disbelieve
Obey routine, just keep on plugging
Too many dreams, and boredom freys
Shake hands with just another day
And she's still standing there...
Ah...she's still standing there...
written by Britta Wolfert