Witch Way to Reality

by Ju Honisch & Katy Droege-Macdonald

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(free) 02:16


released April 1, 1998


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Ju Honisch & Katy Droege-Macdonald Frankfurt Am Main, Germany

Ju & Katy have been partners in musical crime ever since 1991 when they met at a German Star Trek convention at the late night filk circle.
When not filking, Ju writes fantasy novels. More about her writing can be found at www.juhonisch.de
If Katy is not travelling or trying to learn a new instrument, she also sings the filkish version of barbershop with the German filk quartet "Barbership".
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Track Name: Hunter Of The Early Prey
(c) Ju Honisch

In the forest, black and wet,
last year’s leaves died on the ground.
Freed now from their snowy coat
in abundance can be found.
Early spring birds sing their notes
filling the sweet air with sound
and the snowdrops’ modest gaze
is directed towards the ground.

Evergreen the ivy grows,
spinning nets from ground to tree,
smiles disdain at winter snows,
it has been and it will be.
And like peppermint the air
tingles cool and fresh the breath
of the hunter who is there
to bring terror and bring death.

Hunter of the early prey
do be careful where you stray,
for the Goddess of new spring
right now is awakening.
And her dewy gaze will fall
blossoming on nature all.
Hunter, better hide your dart
or be dead before you start.

Time flies like the laughing wind
that pulls at the hunter’s hair.
And oblivious he has sinned
he is killing his first deer.
And while with the wind laughs he
death has entered the spring wood,
cold, and dark and wintery,
snowy bone clad in black hood.

Spring Goddess and elven queen,
oft imagined, never seen,
unicorn and mandragore
hold their counsel midst the gore.
Hunter, now the hunted be
run from what you never see.
Earth and wind will make your tomb
you shall not find your way home.
Track Name: Remembrance
(c) Ju Honisch

There's grey sky above me like a tupper ware bowl
that someone from outside the heavens put o'er
to limit our vision, to curtail our range,
we think it's the weather - but isn't it strange?
I sit at my desk and my work's oddly trite,
I stare at the grey day and long for the night,
a rite of forever the same things's my day,
it pays for my life and my hopes - so I stay.

And yellowing photographs warp through my mind
of friends that have faded and have stayed behind,
in the refuge of memory they built their nest,
I remember the good things and forget all the rest.
I seek sanctuary from the troubles of time
in the visions that stayed with me faithful, sublime,
for I know should they die then the world would turn cold,
I would shrivel inside, would grow brittle and old.

And I grab at your laughter and hold fast at your smiles
and hoist anchor and sail on my memories a while,
and kindness and love is the breeze in my sail
that carries me on through fair weather and gale.
For friends turn the storm into wind in your back
and love makes you whole even though you might lack
a good many features perfection demands,
thus you sing through your foibles, on your shortcomings dance.
Track Name: Nachtdrude
(c) Ju Honisch

Sie trägt schwarz,
innen wie außen,
trägt sie schwarz,
drinnen wie draußen,
nur ihr Lächeln leuchtet silbern und verführerisch.

Dort im Schloß,
zwischen den Schatten
lauert sie,
und viele hatten
schon das Glück, sie vor dem Tode silbern lächeln zu sehen.

Und die Nacht
wird ihr zum Flügel,
gibt ihr Macht,
ganz ungezügelt,
und sie gleitet auf dem Wind dahin und sucht dich, nur dich.

Aber wenn
sie dich dann findet,
lauf und renn,
eh' sie dich bindet,
denn sonst lädt sie dich ein, zu sich in ihr Schattenreich.

Schenkst du ihr
all dein Vertrauen,
greift sie dir
mit spitzen Klauen
in dein Herz und stiehlt die Seele dir zum Zeitvertreib.

Bald liegst du
auf kalten Steinen,
im Verließ
hilft dir kein Weinen,
während sie dir silbrig lächelnd deine Seele frißt.
Track Name: Terror Time in Lancre
(c) Ju Honisch

Villagers are full of dread
for the signs betoken woe
and new horrors now fear they.
Some of them wish they were dead,
some will all pack up and go,
will be gone and far away.

For it's
bath-time for Nanny Ogg
the tub gets filled with water
she gets ready for the slaughter
with her banjo
and she sings
"A wizard's staff
has a knob at the end
has a knob at the end,
has a knob at the end
a wizard's staff
has a knob at the end
and it's long and hard and...."

Windows shut with sudden clatter,
merchants sell out cotton-wool,
bars get drawn before the door.
Over is all idle chatter
fear and panic now do rule
for the sounds grow evermore.

Fam'lies hide beneath small tables
cotton wool stuck in their ears,
trembling for the onslaught now.
Little kids become unstable
and strong men are all in tears,
shaken by the dreadful row.

Animals stampede to freedom,
you can see them flee in groups
even Greebo beats it fast,
if you are outside you see them
running like retreating troops
ears in knots before the blast.

Lancre knows no greater dread
(and) annual catastrophe
than the "have a bath" campaign
Lords and Ladies, walking dead,
and what ever else might be
are compared to this but quaint.
Track Name: Snowqueen
(c) Ju Honisch

Have you heard about the boy who followed the Snowqueen
to her palace of glittering ice, far away on the North pole
where the walls are so high and so cold and so hard
that your soul would freeze over and crack,
have you heard about the boy?
Have you heard about the boy?

Have you heard about the love that combined two children forever,
from the time of their innocent youth, from the time and place where they met?
They held hands 'cross the gap 'tween their windows
to reach out and feel each other's warmth.
Have you heard about that love?
have you heard about that love?

Have you heard about the Queen? Her name is "False Pride" and her touch
will freeze his heart over and glaze it with layers of diamond ice ;
it gets slippery and hard, you can't touch it with love,
so remote that the North Pole seems closer by far,
and the Snowqueen will laugh,
and the Snowqueen will laugh.

Have you heard about the quest to the diamond castle up north
where Aurora riding the sky is the Snowqueen's frozen smile.
And a million cold needles will splinter your heart
and will cut up your feelings in shreds
but the Snowqueen must lose,
oh, the Snowqueen must lose.

Have you heard about the girl that crossed the glittering snow
to bring warmth to her lover whose heart froze to ice
and she found him in bluish green glittering hold
with a icicle smile and a touch that was cold
and the Snowqueen sings out
while they walk to the South,
and the Snowqueen's song ever will follow them here
and creep up through the wind and will fill her with fear.
For the Snowqueen might win,
one day she might win.
Track Name: Hooked for Good
(c) Ju Honisch

I'm a junkie
but my drug is not what you might expect
I am hooked
oh, I cannot be without it
I cannot be without it evermore.

Every Sunday I get stuck
right in front the TV screen
and with wonder I am struck
at the marvels I am seein'
Machiavelli, what you found
was no more than a preface
Babylon turns round and round
I sit glued to my own place

Good old Susan's special charm
isn't diplomatic lately
but to say she means no harm
underestimates her greatly,
mornings aren't quite her thing,
won't rise when it's dark outside
lullabies her colleagues sing,
waking is such sweet surprise.

Hairdressing becomes a challenge
if it's a Centauri man's
and to keep your hair in balance
you must glue till it stands
but beware of this cute creature
for his smile is lined with fangs
all the Borgias were his teachers,
in the darkness he found friends.

All my friends like me are viewing
this bold fair of vanities
and whatever we are doing
we won't miss the next release
video's are circling round us
for those with no cable yet
with excitement Bab has bound us
has ensnared us in its net.

This is no sweet soppy series
here you never can be sure
that your favourite alien dearies
aren't throwing out a lure
and their goodness might not be
what for granted you have taken
nothing's safe as you will see
and your confidence gets shaken.

People might not be the same
after a new episode
Trust becomes a lotto game
in this spinning star abode.
Extras just as well as leads
might get killed or maimed or hurt
what will happen to them is
not announced by a red shirt.

One thing's worried me for long
what will happen, will there be
a life after Babylon
if there's nothing more to see.
Will withdrawal symptoms make
us poor helpless, jittering fen
Right after the final take
what - oh what shall we do then?
Track Name: My Personal Gneechie
(c) Ju Honisch

Did you see it,
almost see it,
just beyond the fringe of vision
there's a gneechie,
somesuch creature,
when you do not look it's there.

Oh my gneechie's buzzing round me
even if I can't see it,
and its silent snicker hounds me
but by force it can't be hit.
And my gneechie's being busy
but what with I cannot see;
its existence makes me dizzy
so elusive it must be.

But I know my gneechie's pleasure
while it zaps around my brain
it steals time I keep for leisure
it steals time and leaves me pain.
Oh, if only I could catch it
I would keep it in a cage,
but it's free and makes me wretched,
makes me hurry in a rage.

All the time that it has taken
it keeps safe somewhere close-by.
After midnight when I waken
I can almost hear it cry.
Oh my gneechie lives by stealing
bits of life and bits of me
and I get this awful feeling
that it laughs triumphantly .
Track Name: Yearning
(c) Ju Honisch

Night falls like a blanket,
night falls like the cool soothing voice
from the unknown heavens,
night falls off’'ring me the one choice,
and I rise,
and I dream of you.

Stars shine like true diamonds
beckoning to fly toward the sky,
out beyond the cloud line;
if the night did guide me so high,
I would rise,
I would fly to you.

Waters glisten silver,
black the lake in dark eerie wood
grants the moon her mirror,
when it's quiet and in the mood,
and I dive,
and I glide to you.

Living on the lake ground,
breathing the sweet waters so black,
I will rise at midnight
spy the skies and then I'll sink back
and I wait
and I yearn for you.

When you swim the waters,
from below I watch your white skin,
I will come and touch you,
stroke you with my mud-glistening fin
with my tongue
I will steal your breath.

Final Verse
Sink to the ground with me, sweet oppression.
Don't fear my cool sedimentary passion.
Your body I hug with my slithery skin,
to my cool, wet shades I invite you in,
and we'll breathe muddy water together
and I'll love you until you decay
night by night, day by day.
Track Name: Blind Paris
(c) Ju Honisch

The wind is in the olive trees
and Zeus knows his kind
and beauty by the number three
from the Olympus climb and find
a mortal, dumb and blind.
His mouth can speak, his eyes can see
but he is just a man
they let him choose between the three
but like all mortals he can't see
through Aphrodite's ban.

What he found lovely was beyond
the dictate of the Gods
it was dictated by a source
far greater than a godly force,
King Fashion set the laws.
So are we all ruled by this king,
there's no reality.
And like a filter is this thing,
changing perception's reasoning,
we judge but do not see.

One hundred years ago we found
that women just looked hale
when pressed and in a corset bound,
and to avoid them getting round
young girls were tied in whale.
In China not so long ago,
a baby's little feet
into a cripple shape were rolled -
it broke the bones but they were told
their duty to look so sweet.

So what is beauty if we change
the concept round and round
from the sublime to the absurd
achieved only by pain and hurt,
is there no common ground?
Today we strap into machines
and slave and starve and toil
to fit our ass into our jeans,
enlarge our tits for magazines,
for suntan fry and boil.

Wind still is in the olive trees
and Zeus hides his grin
we are no Gods and cannot see
unfiltered true reality
and so get taken in.
Our eyes can see, our mouths can speak,
still we are dumb and blind
our dull perception makes us weak
and common, not a bit unique
is what we seek and find.
Track Name: Spinning Tower
(c) Ju Honisch / Katy Dröge

Nothing is quite what it seems -
watch your mirror for your image!
has the darkness reached you yet?
Do you sleep with untold screams?

Darkness coming from the rim,
darkness getting ever closer,
darkness entering your soul,
making you its willing tool,
darkness coming over us.

Spinning in infinity
universe's hope for peace,
crawling in its fragile womb
turncoat of divinity

See the people with their gloves -
nothing's hidden from their mind.
True and false are here entwined.
What's inside them cannot love.

From all creatures hopes and dreams
spin a web of expectation
honour-bound or led by greed -
nothing is quite what it seems.
Track Name: Nightflyer
(c) Ju Honisch / Katy Dröge

Dance with me, fly with me glide with me through the night,
hunt with me, prey with me while your eyes shine so bright.

In a world of black and white
we exist, we hunt, we bite,
creatures living are our prey,
safe they are during the day.

When the sun is in the sky
in our dark recess we lie
and we count the passing minutes
until sunset lifts our limits.

Passion is what drives us on
as we join the wolfish song;
our kiss brings pain and lust
'gainst your will - obey you must.

All your gadgets are for nought:
garlic, crucifixes ought
to restrain us - but we tend
still to get you in the end.

Mortals are to fade and die;
how much better then to fly
and to hunt the grounded lot.
Can they stop us? They can not.
Track Name: My Heart's not in the Highlands
(c) Ju Honisch

I watched a boring movie, watched it for the second time,
for everyone keeps telling me this movie is damn fine.
They tell me it's a daring plot, they tell me it excites,
so now I watch it yet again waiting for new delights.
But I do not like you, Highlander -
you're a sad and dreary hero
for your self-centred suffering seeps from cent'ries past to now
and all the tears I cry for you
are tears of endless boredom,
why don't you put your head under a home-made guillotine?
And have it over and done with.

Again I see you sit and watch some trite and boring wrestling
- five hundred years of fighting have not cooled your appetite?
How do you manage sitting there, your sword under your rain coat -
my mind is boggling where you stuck it so it doesn't show.
Oh, I yawn about you, Highlander,
while you slash the sprinkler system,
while you drive off with your car, by chance the only one intact;
and all the tears I cry for you
are tears for lacking logic
why won't the cutter cut your movie starting with your head?
And have it over and done with.

It's raining on your life, my lad, and mists of boredom shroud you.
Your world is dark and wet and bad and haunting mem'ries cloud you.
There is no reason you should live forever in a pucker,
five hundred years of self-pity made you a real sucker.
Oh, you annoy me, Highlander
while you hang about the shadows
or hide in secret rooms and worship your own useless past
and all the blades aimed at your heart
can never really maim you
the emptiness inside you guarantees that you will last -
till it's over and done with.

Why won't you die, oh Highlander, we never learn the reason -
we sit and watch you bungle on from season to next season.
Your drooping lips, your tragic pout, not one smile on your features;
some people find you sexy and I marvel at such creatures.
You're not alluring, Highlander,
you're dreary, dull and lifeless
five hundred years of cultured boredom drained away your soul
you've set yourself no task beyond
the keeping of your brain-box
No wonder your old buddies try to shorten you a bit.
They want you over and done with.
Track Name: The Fan
(c) Ju Honisch

Hello Fan,
what are you doing with your life,
today and tomorrow?
What are you doing with your time,
your days and your hours,
your minutes and your years?
Why are you in tears?

In the dubious privacy
of your little girl's room
all between your models and your toys
there you dream
and you dream
typing pages after pages
of the latest Star Wars zine
just a door between you and your parents' voice.

The money from the dole
becomes ever more scanty
and rides panic over your soul
and you sigh
and you cry
take your sketch book out and travel
with your pen to dragon den
where you'd like to stay forever and for aye.

Your creative mind is warping
out around reality - you keep
busy with your self-appointed tasks
and you mourn
and feel torn
'tween the very bare necessities
of life and its demands
and the image of the maiden in distress.

You're responsible for nothing,
let yourself be led by fate
and you blame it
if it doesn't turn out well;
so you make
no mistake
for it's fate's well-known indifference
that gets you where you are
and never a decision of your own.

Last Chorus:
Hello Fan,
what are you doing with your life,
today and forever,
when did you leave the real world,
your life and your future,
your priorities, your hope?
When did you stop to cope?
Track Name: Ghost from the Past
(c) Ju Honisch

It's ten years now since I've heard from you last
and I thought I should write you a song
You're nothing now but a thought from the past
with an aftertaste that is all wrong
Oh, I used so much to admire you ,
you taught me so many things, oh,
to laugh in the face of hierarchy
you taught me to say and mean "no".

Friend, oh, friend, changed
and changed utterly,
and a terrible nothing was born

You taught us to stand up for freedom,
to ridicule power and force,
to state things the way that we see them
to speak up without feeling remorse.
I really believed in a friendship
that would go on existing as such,
and I never did want any more from you
not a kiss, a caress, not a touch.

But this icon of freedom consented
to curtail both his freedom and soul
and reshaped the reality round him
like a ground-hog vamoosed down a hole.
You lost the 'extra' from your 'ordinary',
dishonest to your own point of view,
and all you said now was contrary
to what used to be the real "you".

In suburbia you're now in existence -
or that is what I have been told -
in a semi-detached plus front garden
with a trite little wife you'll grow old;
and burnt out is the fire inside you,
rebellion is filed under "r"
run dry's your imagination
new ideas given way to new car.

Are you sure this is what you wanted
when you rid yourself of all your friends.
the lion inside had his claws manicured -
to the boring you moved from intense.
Can it be that what we thought was in you
never had been within you before?
That we misread your character wholly
and you've always been just this: a bore?