Witch Way to Reality

by Ju Honisch & Katy Droege-Macdonald

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.
Remembrance 03:22
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.
Nachtdrude 03:22
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.
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. Chorus: 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.
Snowqueen 04:11
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.
HOOKED FOR GOOD (c) Ju Honisch Chorus: 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?
MY PERSONAL GNEECHIE (c) Ju Honisch Chorus: 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 .
Yearning 06:01
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.
Blind Paris 04:16
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.
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? Chorus: 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.
Nightflyer (free) 02:16
NIGHTFLYER (c) Ju Honisch / Katy Dröge Chorus: 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.
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.
The Fan 03:51
THE FAN (c) Ju Honisch Chorus: 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?
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". Chorus: 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?


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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