the moon sang on the april chair
red deep dirges of a november moon


1995
CD produced by Apollyon - Germany - Sold out
New remastered edition with new layout by Twilight Records - 2013

The Moon Sang On The April Chair
Verdigris Wounds
The Tale Of The Crying Fire-flies
Colouring Nocturnal Lemons
Rocking Chair Of Dreams
Post-Nuclear obitus (bonus track)
Satis Vixi
Spiritus Ad Vindictam

> Lyrics <

Once I was dancing on a cliff, dressed in white with a white "lilies of the valley" -crown on my hair. I was not so old, perharps ten or eleven, and at the foot of the mountains the sea shore and the Aegean sea, white and blue were my colours and you were a face to paint tulips. Then a bit far away... fire-flies and syrens, sea-urchins and hedgehogs, the smell of spring-time, the white ancient taste of childhood. You took me by hand into the sharp teeth of fire-clay fishes. No pain at all, all was so natural... while clementines and lemons are still resting there , in my infancy remembrances. Am I still pure ? Am I what I was ? I was a face to paint tulips and the moon gave me her chant in that April morning life.

Time has passed by and life has been spent. Autumn is the new season left. Who am I ? What am I ? A red deep dirge under a November moon. The fire is powerful but I'm not. So please, flames write the hieroglyphs of instinct and pleasure on my skin and deep on my heart tissues because here I am under a frozen moon and it's November. If I was wise I would have said goodbye to you but I'm not. In the autumn of life where words have dried on my tongue after such a long singing... sunk wreckages are the only hold of instants until the core bit. These are my verdigris wounds.