reviews „Mysterious stories “

it’s in the man who brakes in front of your car ... cause of the bus stopping ... and it’s in the man who steps inside ... to make it to his store in time ... it’s in his boy selling flowers in his store ‘til he’s there ... and in the girl ... buying some red rose for their first date be a special day ... and it is in the bee ... scaring the girl, making the flower drop down

it’s in the runner doing her course in the park ... ‘cause everyone seems able to judge ... if she is cute or got too much ... then she finds the flower in her path ... what will they think if she’s doing her course wearing a rose on her tracksuit? ... so she puts it down on a bench beside a beggar. ... while he’s sleeping ... a dog sniffs on his feet and takes the flower with him

what will they think if she’s doing her course wearing a rose on her tracksuit? ... so she puts it down on a bench beside a beggar. ... while he’s sleeping ... a dog sniffs on his feet and takes the flower with him ... and on his way home it starts to rain

it’s in the dog running back home through the rain ... and in his owner excited about her cutie carrying a flower ... she lays it on the radiator ... she sits down to read on in her book, ... spending some hours until it’s dry, ... she carefully takes it, as her mum did in her childhood days, ... then she opens the book ... putting the flower between the sheets to squeeze it.

outro

years later she took the book, the dried flower fell on the floor. ... it’s in the writer of the book he's starting his day somewhere else ... driving to his publisher as someone is braking in front of his car

music: s. weinert lyrics: f. cottone

i’m walking up and down ... the beach of lido rossello ... why have i come here ... after so many years?

it’s my father’s home ... why shouldn’t it be mine?

on the horizon ... i see my people ... they are dancing on the water ... on the horizon

blue shining red ... let me feel sunlight ... i need to walk on concrete ... to discover my permeability ... and they are dancing...

when i walk down ... via belvedere ... in his mother’s arms ... will he wait there for me?

for now and ever since ... i try to remember

and on the horizon ... i see my people ... they are dancing on the water ... on the horizon

blue shining sun ... on his island ... will i go there to live by the water? ... so one day i’ll be dancing with them...

...dedicated to pasquale cottone

music: s. weinert lyrics: f. cottone

so i'm still a spectator of life ... in a world given shape by my mind ... i lived thoughtless ... i remained ... in an unknown world ... once i dreamt of a crusade ... coming from the inside through my voice ... a sort of a liberation modelled after sorrow

i looked, i searched for many old friends ... and found those i've lost before the end ... what had happened ... will i stay ... in this unknown world ... why was i so secure ... that it was this life unique and pure ... what if it was only one of many lifes in a row

the voices in my head ... repeated thoughts and filtered noise ... a questionnaire ... my answers short and fast ... record it on the other side ... so something may last ... of me ... oh, i feel the presence of your love ... everywhere

salvation is a book on my shelf ... covered by the dust i call „myself“ ... waiting unmoved ... waiting still ... in an unknown world ... escaping vital past ... right into the arms of a now that lasts ... preparing a celebration of wide and pure silence

the voices in my head ... repeated thoughts and filtered noise ... a questionnaire ... my answers short and fast ... record it on the other side ... so something may last ... of me ... oh, i feel the presence of your love ... everywhere

music: s. weinert lyrics: f. cottone

she knew that he drove the whole night through ... without looking back ... she stayed in their place between goodbyes ... and he started to miss her as the evening sun wrote reykjavík ... on his rear mirror

their love transmuted in a way ... she never thought was possible

what have they become? ... moving apart like ... two glaciers ... from iceland

she brought out all the unused things and let nature ... do the work ... and as she decided to sort out their cd’s ... starting with a, then she stopped at c ... to replace his „unforgettable“-album ... with „this fire“

their love transmuted in a way ... she never thought was possible

what have they done? ... living so close ... like the strings ... in a quartet?

no need for headphones anymore ... cause the song she listens to ... won’t disturb anyone ... so she's putting the volume to maximum ... now that he’s gone

their love transmuted in a way ... she never thought was possible

she knew that he drove the whole night through ... without looking back ... she stayed in their place between goodbyes ... and he started to miss her as the evening sun wrote reykjavík ... on his rear mirror

their love transmuted in a way ... he never thought was possible

moving apart like ... two glaciers ... from iceland

and as he noticed the clouds through his windscreen ... all he is, is wondering ... he wondered how they had come here ... all the way from ... iceland

music: s. weinert lyrics: f. cottone

she practised every day and night ... but she never found support or someone who wanted to play with her ... she tried to reach it on her own ... still she's miles away

she’s been writing songs for years ... and the crap of music in the radio sells more and more ... her inspiration never dried up ... still she’s miles away

her will, ambition and her discipline ... they start to spread into life itself and relations ... writing is living ... there was no time to let go ... the child in her did know that all she does would once come back

writing is living ... there was no time to let go ... the child in her did know that all she does would once come back ... once come back

she lost her faith in family ... no one’s calling back nor there's a question ‘bout the work she does ... she lost her faith into her dreams ... stones are building walls

she found new love in children ... so everyone can see, she is delightful ... she’s a prideful mother ... stones are building walls

her will, ambition and her discipline start to ... spread into life itself and relations ... writing is living ... living means decisions ... there was a letting go ... the child in her did know ... that all she does would once come back ... and there she goes ... walking stones & miles

music: s. weinert lyrics: f. cottone

got this call from my agent to go to this place i didn’t know ... i should write a story ... “write something special“, that’s what he said ... started my work but each website i found ... hid some kind of mystery ... all i got were photographs ... ‘cause every word was finnish ... seems that noone in my world knows something about this place ... inari ... and i set off to inari

and i get off the train and into nothing ... then i caught eye of an old tent ... the stripes, once red and black, now faded to brown and grey ... inari ... this moment’s still inside of me

by that time, a circus moved into town ... poor rumanian company ... free people on their travel ... struggling but following their mission ... i went there before i had arrived ... dazed by gas of swaying lights ... bundled up to wings for her appearance on the rope ... step by step so close to death ... i worship life since ... inari ... such beauty i have never seen

music: s. weinert lyrics: f. cottone

it’s my thirteenth anniversary ... waiting for my friends to come ... feels like nothing really happened before ... we’re bereft of childhood

i move backwards to find the cradle ... of my now and then ... must be a kind of key to this ... long before i went to school ... i played in our garden

i decided not to go to school ... on this grey cloudy day ... instead i took the train, let inner pictures grow ... trees fly on the outside

dreamt that all these people are teaching tools ... i will never need ... must be a place to grow more than that ... just a child in the wilderness of the forest ... like dead wood is to be cut out ... doubts are supporting growth

oh ... god is never sensible ... she had never been ... whatever she wants from me, she wants for me ... i’ll follow her back to the garden

rent this empty place for quite a while ... still dreaming of a home to build ... i put in furniture and chairs filled holes ... sandalwood and amber

and although it resembles nurturing ... mere illusive safety ... want to come closer to purity? ... you gotta go back to the garden

the same illusions came across my way ... each time i forgot my needs

oh ... god is never sensible ... she had never been ... whatever she wants from me, she wants for me ... i’ll follow her back to the garden ... back to the garden ... back to the garden ... back to the garden

music: s. weinert lyrics: f. cottone

there is no cloud, no shadow ... as far as i see - blue ... and with you on my side i woke up ... after all i’ve been through ... it is not easy to see the truth

but through my window ... i see flowers growing ... green and red and yellow and all in between ... lining up so we can get an eyeful of a ... blue horizon

always relied on my senses ... and i relied on you ... this trunk grew stronger, so many branches ... a tree obstructing my view ... face covered with leaves and leaves and leaves

but through my window ... i see sunrays shining ... from above like gateways to mexico ... bundled up so we can get an eyeful of a ... blue horizon

on our last vacation ... the clouds did not disappear ... so i did what my friend had told me ... a mixture of hope and beer ... ‘cause it is better to follow in his channel ... then to miss his boat at all

how could i keep up if i'd rather be a sautee ... while i could live as balanced as a bob ross-disciple? .

there is no cloud, no shadow ... as far as i see - blue ... and with you on my side i woke up ... after all i’ve been through ... it’s still not easy ... but i learned somehow ... to retain a deeper sense of hope ... even when clouds pass by ... for a blue horizon, dream on

music: s. weinert lyrics: f. cottone