The 48-page booklet includes all the lyrics, 4 colourful digitally handcrafted illustrations for every song and comes in a cardboard slipcase. It also contains at least four typos that will make this first edition item a certain bestseller on ebay in about 50 years.
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lyrics
Scarecrows
The fallow field in autumn's off,
A pasture o' play for the scarecrows.
The peasant was pure, with a heart of love,
Freedom 's what he bestowed.
The crop was reaped, the job was done,
The birds were all shooed away;
With autumn's beauty almost gone
The peasant plead 'em to stay
In the tree by the brook is a songbird who sings,
But he's made of straw and his melodies' designed;
When wind - Beaufort two - wails under his wings,
Auroral high frequencies control your mind.
T'was Scarecrow's design, and he spoke to the peasant:
'You insolent fool, now it's my time to reap!
But as you may figure it's not gonna be pleasant:
The birds are my army and I claim your seat!'
'You're just a pawn on the playground of life,
And your steps' got you trapped as I roll the dice!
Now you're my pawn on my playground of life
So meet the Scarecrow Mind Controlling Device!"
The black and green peasant was sadder than me,
He stood on the field for the birds to feast.
Delicious, his eyes, for a soft birdy beak,
As he suffered the curse of the beasts.
The winter was harsh but the wind felt pity,
He lowered his voice below Beaufort two
And whispered: 'My friend, I know it's quite shitty,
But I promise: your pain is now through...'
'You're just a pawn on the playground of sorrow,
And your steps' got you trapped as you trusted a Scarecrow.
Now you're still a pawn on the playground of might
But at last you are free - so get out of sight.'
Mr. Scarecrow revealed his cloak of knavery.
He sat in the shack on the peasant's chair;
Said: 'This is my Reich that I built out of slavery,
So fear my dominion in Scarecrow lair!'
But meek Mrs. Scarecrow, that we all shall admire,
She spoke to him 'My dear, I'm sorry!'
She grabbed a torch, set the palace on fire.
She was pregnant - not only with worry...
'You're just a pawn on the playground of hate
And the world for my child is not the one you make!
We burn in our mistakes.'
credits
from Stowaway,
released May 5, 2013
Written & composed, performed & produced by Georg Tkalec
A dreamy, simply magnificent mixture of mellow electronic and uplifting acoustic sounds held together by taciturn's amazing poetry. Like a dream. tkalec
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