Rungholt

Rungholt (Musik & Text Hannes Landau)

In de letzten Jahunderte söchte manny Sturmfloten de Nordseeküst heim.
Doch de schlimmste fun allen wehr de Marcellusflot.
Wie en Strof Goddes zerstörte de Grode Mandsdränke in dat Johr 1362
de ruhmvolle Stadt Rungholt und let se unnergahn. De Legende sech,
dat man be ruhige Weehr noch hüt Rungholts Glocken lüden hören kann.

My name is Jack O´Reilly, I am from Ireland´s shores,
spice trading is my job and I was witness of the following:
On the coast of Friesland they sell a special kind of salt,
so I set sails and made my way to a town called Rungholt.

„Don`t you care about your coast?“, asked a man,
„Don`t you care about your souls?“
„Your purse is full, I preach in an empty church,
please remember“, said the priest „the lord comes first!“

As I came to the harbour I asked a friendly man
where to find the next salines he showed me them and then
the carving and the ripping of the land scared me a lot.
Pub is full, church is closed, nobody thanks the lord.

Nobody knows what happened to Rungholt, just a legend of boast is told,
I saw it all, its rise and fall, pride was its fate: The end of Rungholt.

The more the priest did warn the more he was ignored,
haughty citizens derided him and the sea did roar.
So I left the market, I didn´t make a deal.
Godlessness and pride, bane of god became real.

Windswept escape, ruthless seaway,
fear on my back, gigantic waves…

Tartan Pants

Tartan pants (Musik: Markus Blumberg, Text: Tim Roderwieser)

I first saw your eyes shining through the crowd, you wore your tartan pants.
You always said the right thing and you did it, but around me was a fence.
You carried me a while, I carried you a while, you carried me a while

You first flashed me in a peanut covered gramophone, with that biker through the wall,
Not every great love has a happy end, ours could have had, but my courage was too small
You carried me a while, I carried you a while, you carried me a while, we carried each
other for a while

You are more than just a glimpse or a hidden sound in the attic of my memory
You will always be a part of my life and I hope you feel the same when you think of me

Atlanterra

Atlanterra (Musik & Text: Tim Roderwieser)

Do you feel that time is running out and your thoughts are filled with fog,
there´s no music and the only sound is the ticking of the clock,
wipe this all away, listen what I say, get your things together turn your mind on purple heather.
We will pack the busses with the boys and we make some noise
and we let our spirits fly to the western coast again.

Take me back home to the breaking waves on the shores of Atlanterra.
Seems to me like we´ve never been apart.
Deep in our soul is a well known place and the sound of Atlanterra,
here you will find the freedom for your heart.

We have seen the force awakening, on the Skelligs we stood like Jedi Lords,
won the Durness football championship, danced on the Muir of Ord.
Midges in the port, everyday we got on board of another Cal Mac Ferry, made it home to Scott and Mairi,
sailors of the Oich and the Ness, winding up to Healy´s Pass,
now the time has come for the knights of Patsy Dan!

You´re divided though you share legends from both sides of the great divide.
A stormy danger but we dare to take this final boat to the other side.

Atlanterra

Flowers of Glen Coe

Flowers of Glen Coe (Musik & Text: Hannes Landau)

On a bright summer morning me and my son walked through MacDonalds Glen Coe.
We talked about freedom, friendship and love but something happened here years ago.

The wounds of the past take a long time to heal and their roots are strong and deep.
Summer comes and winter goes here in my lovely Glen Coe.

It’s the ground that you walk and the air that you breathe,
smell the flowers that grow in the sun.
Let the story they tell never let fade away
and remember how it all begun.

We sat down on a stone, kept silence for a while. “For what reason is war?” asked my son.
A tear dropped down and I shook my head. “I don´t know…” was all that I said.

It’s the ground that you walk and the air that you breathe,
smell the flowers that grow in the sun.
Let´s the story they tell keep in mind every day
and remember how it all begun.

It’s the burden of every nation, it’s the question of every child,
the duty of every chieftain, the future of mankind.

It’s the ground that you walk and the air that you breathe,
they tell stories of blood, hate and war.
Let the wounds of the land and men who can´t be friends
heal through the flowers of Glen Coe.

Thanks to the Irish

Thanks to the Irish (Musik & Text: Michael Fliegner)

On day one of our journey we crossed the Irish Sea,
a hotel at the harbour, the first place we´d got to be.
With a look out to the Old Head we played „Johnny“ at the shore
and in Dingle at An Conair´s „Taking back the land“ once more.

In the morning a Full Breakfast, noon till dawn the Irish sun,
on the left always the seaside, we are Anduril on the run.
In the evening a grilled Sirloin, grab a can of tasteful black,
take a look out to the ocean where the sun burns a ship´s deck.

You warmed our hearts with your smile, we felt welcome in your land,
you made us a home for a while, made it easy for our band,
there is just one thing for sure: One day we will be back
to the beauty of the forty shades and the taste of Irish Black.

Standing there upon green mountains, feeling like this must be fake,
breathing in the magic moments at the mystic Barley Lake.
Climb the steps up to the monks and birds, Little Skellig in the mist,
throw the balls down on the Blasket Sand, Mr. Rhythm raise your fist.

So we say: „Thanks to the Irish and to our promised land,
you warmed our hearts with your smile, we felt welcome in your land.“

Talisker Bay

Talisker Bay (Musik & Text: Hannes Landau)

Life isn´t simple and your track isn´t always straight.
Sometimes it´s cloudy and you fear to lose your way.
Every night follows daylight, there´ll be sunshine after rain.
Your dark cloud shifter comes from this place.

Just sit down and relax and breath the air,
enjoy the outlook let the wind blow your hair.

Take me back to Talisker Bay, where time stood still, where I found my way.
Take me back where I belong, to the coast where I became strong.

Every wave reached my heart every stone keeps a memory.
What once was hard to find: My spirit will be free.
If burdens shading your mind, let the clouds take them aside.
Written in the water: Welcome back to life!

The light on the horizon will ease the pain, coming back to this coast is always a gain.

Running for Life

Running for life (Musik: Markus Blumberg, Text: Hannes Koch)

Walking the path day by day, the same old way,
the birds and the trees , the well known noises.
Asking myself everytime: “Why should I stay?”
Louder and louder I hear these voices:

„You`re running and running the same old ways, you`re running in circles.”

Illusions? Still there all the time, but fading like worn out sheets.
They`re covering me by loosing their colours.
Deep in my heart in the middle of my mind are fears I cannot defeat.
My conscious is clear but afraid of the dawn.

Still hoping and praying for better days. You`re running for life.

“Just turn around” ,says the cat with a smile, “I´m the one, I give you protection.”
“Just turn around and rest for a while, I´m the one to show you direction.”

Guardian

Guardian (Musik & Text: Hannes Koch)

endless nights the moon is shining bright I lie awake
this frightening light still I’m trying to find some peace – for heaven sake
all the things I’ve done placed on heaven’s vage
the works of love the words of rage
like a movie of my life like a picture in a row
hopeless fears grow and grow

on an on the thoughts capture my mind an slightly shock me
but you are there your touch will ease the pain you’ll gently rock me
soon my spirit will fly again over silent seas and my mind will be released
and you ease my pain from this moment I feel nothing
more I can adore

give me your guidance
give me your guidance

let me walk through foreign places
hand in hand on hopeful traces

show me the future let me believe in live
be my guide stay with me

comes the day whenall the tears are dried and pain will end
you’ll be there together we are strong for the last stand
I know the day will comewe will go with the tide
my guardian you stay on my side

Highland Commander

Highland Commander (Musik & Text: Tim Roderwieser)

Came in from the west to the boats of the Highlands,
took over the rudder, the band went aboard.
First gig: At Benleva we played on the Nessbanks,
our keel cut the waves and the water like Aragorn´s sword.

The beat of the boat and the engine just sounded like drums and bass,
and the tune of the song was like wind on the hills and the lake.
The water of life filled our souls and the spirit let legends grow,
as we sang of the land and the people and tales were awake.

Just spread your wings out and fly through the glen,
on a Highland Commander our music is send to cover the land.

On the back of an eagle that lay on the water,
we sung of the wolves and the call of the blood and the whales.
The giant Ben Tee waits to be crowned by a walker.
Three soldiers still guarding the people, the bens and the vales.

Across the great divide

Across the great divide (Musik & Text: Tim Roderwieser)

Solitary land, crumbling walls, a long and plaintive band, too feeble to walk,
born and raised here, but now on their way,
children alongside, only sheep herds will stay.
Disappeared behind the Highland hills,
now their homeland´s quiet and still, they are gone.

Ships to Canada take the crofters across, the landlords stole their ground,
now everything´s lost.
A cry of grief over the land re-echoes through the empty glens,
hear them cry:

„We are going across the great divide and the people we´re leaving behind us
are the memories of our lives.
We are going across the great devide and the homeland that couldn´t
protect us is now so far aside …“

Children of the Gael famished by the blight,
on a final sail after Balinglass nights.
Broken spirits in tatters and rags get on coffin ships with a pall as a flag.
From the fields of Athenry comes a deep and desperate sigh:
„My children are gone!“

During the times of a worldwide darkness poets and thinkers left their homes,
but these were just a few and most of them were caught.
Albert, Berthold, Marlene, Thomas and Heinrich
fled the brown terror and crossed the Atlantic,
scared by a land that should have been their home.