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lyrics

I watch your lips move, I watch the syllables fall out, try to collect them with my bare hands. I listen to you, your voice‘s echoes resonate in my head.
I watch your body and every movement is a word, every gesture is a sentence. but when I listen to you I look for meaning in the noise, in your voice. your chest lifts and lowers as the air goes in and out, put some cotton in my ears to mute your talking, kill the sound ‚cause as I try to put those syllables together I find they make no sense at all.
I watch your lips move I watch the syllables fall out, try to collect them with my bare hands but as I try to put those syllables together I find they make no sense at all. They make no sense at all.

credits

from Postcard #6: Deconstruction Site, released February 21, 2013

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entertainment for the braindead Berlin, Germany

Julia Kotowski, based in Berlin, weaves her sonic universe from shy song lines, small instruments and field recordings, carefully wraps them in paper cut-outs and serves them with home-made ginger cookies. And coffee.

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