All in Good Time

Islands from the first time we saw we could wait for this moment, like rocks on the shore we can never be closer somehow for the moments that lasts, is this moment now (CHORUS) When the nights's on fire will you keep the Candlelight Burning Hold on to your hearts desire When you see one bird into the wind another one's turning And the two can fly much higher We are Islands but never too far, we are Islands And I need your light tonight, and I need your light tonight, We are Islands but never too far, we are Islands And I need your light tonight, and I need your light tonight Islands never been to before and we climb so high to where the wild birds soar, there's a new path that we found just today I was lost in the forest and you showed me the way (Repeat chorus)

Finally, I'm letting go of all my downer thoughts In no time there'll be one less sad robot Looking for a chance to be something more than just metal Now I'm going part time with a film projectionist And she's the vinyl queen from the surfer dream She likes the beach boys more than radio metal And she's so good But she's no good for me Oh, Miss Delaney Whats the matter? You waited by the window (You waited by the window) I waited by the door Oh, Miss Delaney Wheres your boyfriend? He isn't up in heaven So why treat him like he's dead? Like he's... It's not that everyday Everyday is comming up with the green grass But the times pass When I think of you whenever I'm at dinner Finally, I've found someone to duel this lonely sea I don't spend my nights searching for earthquakes Oh, it's biblical how fucked my sleep can be But she won't sleep with me Oh, Miss Delaney Whats the matter? You waited by the window Waited by the window I waited by the door Oh, Miss Delaney Wheres your boyfriend? No, he isn't up in heaven So why treat him like he's dead? Like he's dead, like he's dead From here you can't find everything Erin, I would never lie to you Oh, Miss Delaney, Miss Delaney Whatcha sad for? Well, you waited by the window And I was kicking down your door Oh, Miss Delaney Wheres your boyfriend? Wheres your boyfriend? He isn't up in heaven So why treat him like he's dead? Oh, Miss Delaney

Lights go out and I can't be saved Tides that I tried to swim against You've put me down upon my knees Oh I beg, I beg and plead, singing Come out of things unsaid Shoot an apple off my head And a trouble that can't be named A tiger's waiting to be tamed, singing You are You are Confusion never stops Closing walls and ticking clocks, gonna Come back and take you home I could not stop that you now know, singing Come out upon my seas Cursed missed opportunities Am I a part of the cure Or am I part of the disease, singing You are, you are You are, you are You are, you are And nothing else compares Oh, oh no nothing else compares And nothing else compares You are You are Home, home where I wanted to go Home, home where I wanted to go Home, home where I wanted to go Home, home where I wanted to go

What's this hell? What's this pen? Put me in the hole with the rest of the men? Who you going to call at the station? "I need matrimony" said the captain to his pony: listening for motors (from the ditch then)... oh water in the town water in the sound - water takes the valleys and it puts them in the ground: oh no not again! Water by the trees water in the station (wherein the identification documents float from room to room): water from (and was birthed in) the birdland closed conservation. (said the shepherd) What's this hell? The earth does bend? Drown with the hunted and the hunter in his pen: la la I knew this man at the station (before the trucks disappeared) I need matrimony said the Cossack to his pony la la: listening for motors oh.. to party on the ground to puke on the ground to call your former mystic and you tell him he is found: not again! You were born last and forced to breathe (but not to) drown with the hunter in the coarse brown sleeve: not again! Oh running from the polis you were passing in the forest and condition myself to believe in operating forests: you better think about woodcutters and the burning of the station la la I hear the motors and I hear the matrons and I hear the (groaning of) the Polis with the blessed birdland patron (a sort of Patroclus of the ages) I know myself I know myself I was cut from evil fabric but my nurse knows better health: you better think about woodcutters and lights on: lights on!

There is no insanity, rather a super sanity More suited for life at the end of the 20th century Where everything is art And everything is trying to express it Where everything is art And everything is trying to communicate it... All intelligent beings sleep the dreaming of dreams And they've all come up to meet met tonight Although while in the morning, all their wonder and their Glory was turned ugly and quite simple Like a venue when you're loading in gear Sexuality, eroticism in asexual persuasions Man or woman, makes no difference in the outcome No fashion, no tolerance for stupidity or ignorance ..."adidas" or "the arch deluxe"... And time is now an object Oh my fucking god... Oh I'm fucking god... And I'll dream this into becoming real And until such time that you can prove me otherwise I will continue with my agnostic travels Until I've found a place that dreams with me... ...a place that feeds on my routine All I want is my mommy... All I want is my mommy... All I want is my mommy... All I want is my mommy... This is the night that it all changes

If you had the time to lose, An open mind and time to choose, Would you care to take a look, Or can you read me like a book? Time is always on my side, Time is always on my side. Can I tempt you, come with me, Be Devil may care, fulfill your dream, If I said I'd take you there, Would you go, would you be scared? Time is always on my side, Time is always on my side. Don't be afraid, you're safe with me, Safe as any soul can be ... honestly, Just let yourself go. Caught somewhere in time Caught somewhere in time Caught somewhere in time ... oh oh Like a wolf in sheep's clothing, You try to hide your deepest sins, Of all the things that you've done wrong, And I know where you belong. Time is always on my side, Time is always on my side. Make you an offer you can't refuse, You've only got your soul to lose... Eternally...Just let yourself go! Caught somewhere in time Caught somewhere in time Caught now in two minds!

You push my buttons hard And don't even realize what you're doing is killing my soul Do you think I'm just some prize You can win and then discard after the thrill is gone? Well, listen then I ain't gonna take it this time I ain't gonna take that from anyone I ain't gonna take it this time Guess I'm gonna break out You know I try to please I lay awake at night Trying to find the words you'll understand But when I'm nothing but sincere I know you can't be hearing Cause you say it's more of the same Well, listen then <chorus> Do you think I'd ever try to fool you There are enough lies in the world You don't need mine If I can't win your heart and move you You must be blind

[Verse 1] I can handle Way more than I can handle null So I keep reaching for the handle To flood my heart [/33322878/Bon-iver-awards-season/So-i-keep-reaching-for-the-handle-to-flood-my-heart] And the Spaniard In song that I have pandered to Is always handing me the anvil Saying, "That's for you" [/33324455/Bon-iver-awards-season/And-the-spaniard-in-song-that-i-have-pandered-to-is-always-handing-me-the-anvil-saying-thats-for-you] But then you came to me From Olympic heavy duty [/33322675/Bon-iver-awards-season/Olympic-heavy-duty] We both needed so much soothing Played you Rickie Lee [/33325837/Bon-iver-awards-season/We-both-needed-so-much-soothing-played-you-rickie-lee] Oh, how everything can change In such a small time frame You can be remade You can live again What was pain now's gain [/33338705/Bon-iver-awards-season/What-was-pain-nows-gain] A new path gets laid And you know what is great Nothing stays the same [Verse 2] Felt you through me In every clue you threw me Pointing at me asking, "Who, me?" What a start [/33404958/Bon-iver-awards-season/What-a-start] And you had taken All away my aching Well, how could I ever thank you? I'd been received But I'm a sable [/33321159/Bon-iver-awards-season/But-im-a-sable] And honey, us the fable You said that you were unable That it's not reprieved [/33331823/Bon-iver-awards-season/And-honey-us-the-fable-you-said-that-you-were-unable-that-its-not-reprieved] Oh, but maybe things can change What can wax can wane Things can get replayed [/33322024/Bon-iver-awards-season/What-can-wax-can-wane-things-can-get-replayed] And if it's all the same Oh, just take my hand And place it on your blame [/33327388/Bon-iver-awards-season/And-place-it-on-your-blame] And let it wash away With you I will remain

[Chorus 1] I see you My world blooms around you A time-lapse in a flash I see my whole life beside you I bear witness To the garden that one day we'll tend to As futures unearth The only one I belong to is with you [Verse 1] But I will wait patiently Take all of the time you need I'll be here, I'll be here when you're ready When the rain won't let up I'll try to be strong enough To build a sanctuary [Chorus 2] I see you How the world blooms around you I see you The pure light that you've always held on to I see you The impossible odds that you've grown through Dark clouds pour down But you don't have to keep swimming If you don't want to

Try and stop me Try and save me I want to fall... Try and crush me Take me, teach me I want to fall I want to fall I want to fall... I want to fall I want to fall I want to fall...

CHAPTER V THE VAMPIRE IN LITERATURE A consideration of the Vampire theme in literature must of necessity be somewhat eclectic, if not even arbitrary in the selection of works which it reviews and with which it sets out to deal. Any exhaustive inquiry is well-nigh impossible, and this not so much, perhaps, on account of the wealth of the material, although indeed there is a far vaster field than might generally be supposed, as owing to the very vague definition and indeterminate interpretation one is able to give to vampirism from a purely literary point of view. It is the craft of an artist in the telling of ghost-stories to see that his colours should not be too vivid and too clear, and no mean skill is required to suggest without explanation, to mass the shadows without derangement, to be occult yet not to be obscure. Accordingly it would be a matter of extreme difficulty to differentiate the malignant and death-dealing spectre or it may be even corpse who returns to wreak his foul revenge from the Vampire,--using this latter word in its widest sense, as one must employ it when speaking of literature, a caution which here given as regards this Chapter will serve once for all. In such a story, for example, as Dr. M. R. James' Count Magnus[1] is the horrible revenant a ghost or a vampire? The writer has left the point ambiguous. It is of the very essence of his happy invention that he should do so, and the deftly veiled incertitude adds to the loathly terror of the thing. It will be readily remembered that the story relates how a traveller in Sweden about the middle of the last century whilst staying near an ancient manor house in Vestergothland obtains permission to examine the family papers and among these he comes upon the traces of a certain Count Magnus de la Gardie who in the year 1600 had built the house or herrgård. Even after the lapse of two and a half centuries dark traditions are still lingering concerning this mysterious nobleman, whose body lies in a richly ornate copper sarcophagus that stands the principal feature of a domed mausoleum at the eastern end of the church. Reluctantly the landlord tells a story which happened in the time of his grandfather ninety-two years before. Two men determined to go at night and have a free hunt in the woods upon the estate. They are warned: "No, do not go; we are sure you will meet with persons walking who should not be walking. They should be resting, not walking." The two men laughed and cried: "The Count is dead; we do not care for him." But in the night the villagers "hear someone scream, just as if the most inside part of his soul was twisted out of him." Then they hear a hideous laugh, "it was not one of those two men that laughed, and, indeed, they have all of them said that it was not any man at all." In the morning they go out with the priest, and they find one of the men dead, killed in so terrible a fashion that they buried him on the spot. "He was once a beautiful man, but now his face was not there, because the flesh of it was sucked away off the bones." The other man is standing with his back against a tree, "pushing with his hands-pushing something away from him which was not there." There was some vague gossip that the Count had been "on the Black Pilgrimage, and had brought something or someone back with him." During his investigation of the papers the English traveller, Mr. Wraxall, found a Liber nigrae peregrinationis, or at least a few lines of such a document indicating that the Count had once journeyed to the city of Chorazin and there adored the prince of the air. In careless mood as he is passing near the mausoleum, Mr. Wraxall exclaims: "Ah, Count Magnus, there you are. I should dearly like to see you." He is indiscreet enough to cry out thus flippantly on two further occasions, and at last he is thoroughly alarmed by hearing the sound of metal hinges creaking and he knows that the sarcophagus is slowly opening wide. In a state of frenzied fear he sets out for England the next day, yet turn and double as he will he is everywhere haunted by two hideous figures, a man in a long black cloak and a broad-leafed hat and something in a dark cloak and hood. Upon landing at Harwich he makes his way across country to a neighbouring village, when on looking out of the carriage window he sees at a cross-road the two horrible creatures. He finds a lodging, but within the next forty-eight hours his pursuers fall upon him. He is discovered dead, and in the district it is still remembered how "the jury that viewed the body fainted, seven of 'em did, and none of 'em wouldn't speak to what they see, and the verdict was visitation of God; and how the people as kep' the 'ouse moved out that same week and went away from that part." This story may, I think, certainly be considered as Vampire lore, and although it must, of course, be perfectly familiar to all who delight in tales of the supernatural I have related it at some little length here, partly because it is told so excellently well, and partly because it so admirably fulfils and exemplifies the qualities that this kind of literature should possess. It is brief and succinct, although there are many details, but every touch tells. No ghost story should be of any length. The horror and the awe evaporate with prolixity. The ghost is malevolent and odious. In fiction a helpful apparition is a notable weakness, and the whole narrative becomes flabby to a degree. The authentic note of horror is struck in the eerie suggestion which, as we have noticed, is of intent left ill-defined. Nothing could be more crude than an explanation, and it is this banality that often ruins a story which otherwise might be of the very first order. To review the traces of vampire legends which appear in sagas, and which are in truth but few and unimportant, seems to be outside our province here, and even more foreign to our purpose would be the present examination of the vampire legend in folk-lore since this has already been dealt with in the course of the preceding chapters, and to regard such traditions merely as literature would be not only to look at them from a wrong perspective but to misrepresent their quality and essentially to pervert their purpose. Since some point must be chosen at which to consider vampirism in literature we may most fairly recall to mind the many academic and philosophical treatises upon the Vampire which were rehearsed and discussed in German Universities during the earlier part of the eighteenth century, and these startling themes soon began to attract the attention of poets and literary men. Thus among the poems of Heinrich August Ossenfelder[2] we have a short piece entitled Der Vampir, which is as follows: Mein liebes Mägdchen glaubet Beständig steif und feste, An die gegebnen Lehren Der immer frommen Mutter Als Völker an der Theyse An tödtliche Vampiere Heyduckisch feste glauben, Nun warte nur Christianchen, Du willst mich gar nich lieben; Ich will mich an dir rächen, Und heute in Tockayer Zu einem Vampir trinken. Und wenn du sanfte schlummerst, Von deinen schönen Wangen Den frischen Purpur saugen. Alsdenn wirst du erschrecken, Wenn ich dich werde küssen Und als ein Vampir küssen: Wann du dann recht erzitterst Und matt in meine Arme, Gleich einer Todten sinkest Alsdenn will ich dich fragen, Sind meine Lehren besser, Als deiner guten Mutter?

{Verse 1] I forget how I love you I can't feel your weight Push the colors from my face But if I let myself hate you I only imitate the faults I thought I had erased [Chorus] But held up to the light I almost find a reason to be kind When my memory gets wiped It's almost like the history isn't mine {Verse 2] I regret close to nothing Isn't that what wise say When they're trying to save face But if I'm dead close to honest The life I fabricated Feels too britlе not to break [Chorus] But held up to the light I almost find a rеason to be kind My memory gets wiped It's almost like the history isn't mine

[Verse 1] We've been through low Been through sunshine, been through snow All the colours of the weather We've been through high Every corner of the sky And still we're holding on together null [Chorus] You got all my love Whether it rains or pours, I'm all yours You've got all my love Whether it rains, it remains You've got all my love [Verse 2] And till I die Let me hold you if you cry Be my one, two, three, forever [Chorus] 'Cause you got all my love Whether it rains or pours, I'm all yours You've got all my love Whether it rains, it remains You'vе got all my love