GODBLUFF

After four long years the poet is back on the machine. So you pull the record out of the black cover and you feel, this is not going to be an easy journey.The needle sets down and an echoed flute plays a slow funeral dirge, soon joined by the slow pace of the organ and the poet himself "you ask, in uncertain voice, what you should do, as if there was a choice but to carry on miming the song"... Yes it's too late to turn back and you start to shiver and while the song fades away, menacing chords on the electric piano warn you and a drum roll announces danger.

The sax and the organ start to howl and the poet spits out his anger and frustration "charging madly forward, tracks across the snow; wind screams madness to him, ever on he goes...", and you feel cold, black sweat pouring out of your body while you look over the scorched earth. And with one last feedback-scream of the guitar you cry for relieve, but it's too late... you can't move anymore, painridden you hear the whaling sound of the wah-wah sax and every note impales you deeper on the arrow and the poet screams and shrieks in agony, "how long the night is - why is this passage so narrow? How strange my body feels, impaled upon the arrow."

And the music builds up in a frenzy and when it finally stops you hear a dance tune approaching and people coming nearer, but when they come nearer in a twisted mockery dance you realize, these are the living dead, the sleepwalkers, "the columns of the night advance, infectiously their cryptic dance gathers converts to the fold - in time the whole raw world will pace these same steps on into the bitter end." and suddenly you are invited to join in for a deadly foxtrott and when the dance finally stops you look to the sky and there is not much hope, but at least you are ALIVE.

A masterpiece in poetry and music!