Mattias Reinholdsson

ACTIVE:	2000s -
BIRTH:	0000년
STYLE:	일렉트로닉
PROFILE:
ARTIST'S ACTIVITIES Book Of Hours (1997) with Anni Thulin,Jonas Hansson,Mattias Reinholdsson,Henrik Johansson
MANIADB:	maniadb/artist/136718

SONGS
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ÅNgloksåNgest

Book Of Hours

4:27

from Book Of Hours - Art To The Blind (1999)

Fifth Dimension

Book Of Hours

7:57

from Book Of Hours - Art To The Blind (1999)

(Music & lyrics: H Johansson)

Feeling high on hills inside, I think it's what I do
Covered by a veil of silk, obstruction to get through
Forces from magnetic fields are beating in your heart
Even though you run the show it's tearing you apart

My feelings, your feelings too

When you've got the key to fit the lock things will unveil
Many times have tried before and many times have failed
When you reach the final it brings beauty to your eyes
Have the cake and eating it, a saying you defy

Disillusion may encounter your mind
At the same time it is art to the blind

CHORUS:
Tell me you're lonely, Tell me you want me now
Tell me you're craving, Maybe I wonder how

Everything `till now has been a "coming, loss, and gone"
Felt the cut-out in your arm, they left you all undone
When you're on the spree you think you act a little weird
History has been a stare, much worse than what you feared

You feel you dive from the sky
You've entered dimension five

REPEAT CHORUS

Infinite

Book Of Hours

5:27

from Book Of Hours - Art To The Blind (1999)

Endearment

Book Of Hours

6:27

from Book Of Hours - Art To The Blind (1999)

Infertile Ground

Book Of Hours

7:46

from Book Of Hours - Art To The Blind (1999)

(Music: H Johansson/S Zell)
(Lyrics: H Johansson )

Softly shaking sunlight, landing like a leaf
Wakes the weary wanderer, blessed in belief
Grunting gathered gossip, tells a tale of today
Wisdom whispered "warning", carefully carrying you
on the crest of a wave

Sunlight, the old man's praying
gazing upon the clouds
A rain that seems as it would never end
Struggling with his old tools
lived by his fathers rules
He sees the remains of his life in debris

And a raven sat on a poplar-branch
Sits there waiting for his prey

Pulling, the horse is snorting
Ploughing a pit of mud
A scanty yield, an effort blistering hands
The crop has gone with the rain
He wears himself out in vain
An old man staring wearied on his lands

And the raven gazed in the old mans eye
Then it held a scaresome cry
And the old man gazed at the crying sky
What a rotten day to die

Oh, it is tearing on his soul
Buried deep down in a hole, searching life
Oh, he's a feudal system cog
At the bottom of the bog there's no life
Poor, poor old man the wanderer said
Staring heavy eyes of lead
Fortold a story from his world
He was crying to be heard

Water, his fields are flooded
Nothing won for his toil
His pity was bailed out by common fear
He didn't want to move
But nothing was left to prove
Sunken in a brown study of tears

Now the raven grabbed for his tortured soul
But the old man turned around
...And the gun reflected a rising sun
as the bird fell to the ground