...And Oceans - The Symmetry Of I - The Circle Of O (1999)

...and still I dream about the colors

Or was it smoke that surrounded my thoughts
When I was sitting in my garden

That black Monday (momentaaninem
pimeys, melankolian iäisyys)

Brought flowers and silence, but that
sunshine is in another aspect
Nothing But a verbal virus when I welcome the clouds...
Sub specie aeterni I still am the mechanic hippie
And the outside is reflected inside me... well
Am I the shadow of myself, coz I really
Don't believe in the empty shadows (but
When I believe then and only then I
Believethat I am not I) but it's nice
And relaxing to stand naked by the
window watching heaven's children falling
As rain (samalla kun piirtelen viivoja
veteen ajatusten merenpinta laskee
alle normaalitason)
...but after all take what is needed, so
children forget heaven...

Like stones in silence I stand
As I draw circles in the sand
Naked under blue glass
Drowned I watch children dance

In a mind of an echo

(I know that I am I, if and only if I
believe that I am I)

I float to the distance to eat the horizon
I cut the sunbeams the day before tomorrow
Tranceform the time to a silent history
Run under water in eternal serenity

...is it easy to run
to run under water?
...is it easy to paint
to paint without colors?

I float to the distance to eat the horizon
I cut the sunbeams the day before tomorrow
Tranceform the time to a silent history
Run under water in eternal serenity

(If i would've been the other I
and if I would've wanted to be the other I
then I could've been I)

...is it easy to run
to run under water?
...is it easy to paint
to paint without colors?

As an echo in the mind

I (even if I should be in plural) am the
Singular dimension
The repeated phrase of a lost section
Where the circle (the actual box of colors)
Is completed
The mindjourney, the merry go mind

Draw the lined in water - divine the innerwold
Inside the outside of the merry go mindstop

I (...and not the others of I) painted the words
To a context, a mind absurd
To curse the falling star
With the baby blue doll under my arm

Draw the lined in water - divine the innerwold
Inside the outside of the merry go mindstop

We (the division of I) paint with
Eyes the parade of the air
From a transparent perspective:
We are the spheres

Feel the warm magma inside
In veins the stream of honey
colors ascend to the mind
I greet the blue harmony

...only then
I (...and not the singular I) will believe in
The empty shadows, but...

What if the case was...

The candle is burning once again
Like the faces of black and white children

...the girl in every man...

a long abortion is what life is
Long as a shadow filled with emptiness

Like the shadow of a shadow
Life is fading away like a dying flower

If I could
I would rape myself
If I was pregnant
I'd give birth to myself and my own death

...the man in every girl...

Innocent (Innoceant) and young
Swallowing myself and the inner sun (son)

Like the shadow of a shadow
Life is fading away like a dying flower

...but that's not the case yet, or...

What are these penetrating colors
Of this soundscaping noisefloor?
Is this the old empty future
or the black eletric nature?

Colors circulate inside of O
Ambient mind, the overdose
(...and I was injected with silence)

Are we all elastic worms
In this red tekknostorm?
Are there any energetic atoms
In this paradoxical zone?

Can the relapse of spasms
Be the rhythm of this dance?
Is this the neo-cultural spacetrip
Or the perpetual trancegrip?

Is the echo a shadow of presence
Or a soundtrack for nonexistance
Are the voices orchestral nightmares
Or synonyms to black and white faces?

Color circulate inside of O
Anbient mind, the overdose
(... and along came the spasms)

Are we all elastic worms
In this red tekknostorm?
Are there any energetic atoms
In this paradoxical zone?

Extraction from O'mindiary

When I was younger (a naive christian
with thoughts like melting sugar)
my fingers were attacked by
nails and I could hear the voice of
J.C. screaming under my skin,
trapped like a slave in my flesh. This
was in those days when water flew in
my veins, the rain kept on pouring
inside my head and I denied & killed
him (not with scissor nor knives, but
with the inner muscles of my
torso). The rumor says that the
bastard was raped by the cross, but
maybe he was a hermaphrodite who
raped himself.
...det vitala med perpetuella varandet
är att vara transparent existerande...
I understood that this mental traffic
was a new symbol burned in my
mind, like planets in orbit around me
I was stading in the centre with the
sun in my pocket thinking: existence
is an illusion, mankind will face the
mushroom cloud, but I am I, the
ultimate god.

Still the fields are in motion
Not as pictures but as time
Hunting the white plague
In the absence of my body

I watch myself drown
in the blue aura
Of mine and I see
The swans leave the pond

But still the words circle
Around my head like flies

The gnashing marble teeth
Were disturbing my slumber
And there I was in the middle
Of a game called chess
But my vagabond initiated the process

Yet the fields are in motion
Not as time but as clouds
Falling as silver rain
And washing away the heavy blood

The gnashing marble teeth
Were disturbing my slumber
And there I was in the middle
Of a game called chess
But my vagabond initiated the process