![]() His strong sense of compassion is very inspiring. Vienna Teng: The idea of collecting donations came from Alex Wong, whom I perform with frequently. In how far do you want to speak up to what is happening and do you maybe plan to sing about it? You collected a donation sum at a concert lately to help the people suffering from the tsunami catastrophe. I'm always fascinated by the lives of people who listen to my music, and how a certain song came to be important to them.Ĭ.S.: The current news and happenings in Japan cannot leave us ignorant and questions a lot of the way of our lives. It's also great to receive song requests before a show, and to read the stories behind the requests. I can pose a question on Facebook or Twitter about any topic I'm interested in, and inevitably someone responds with useful information. It's allowed me to continue my education, in a sense. Vienna Teng: I love that my life in music and on the internet has connected me with so many thoughtful, knowledgeable people. In what way would you describe the community that supports you on the internet? I also witnessed that you immediately checked news in a concert break backstage. Because, when I look at the internet, I see that you are very active with Facebook and modern ways of communication, regarding news of your band and tour dates. Even if you tour a lot in the USA this year, you never seem far away. (See German Version here.)Ĭ.S.: Dear Vienna Teng, it is a great delight to have the opportunity to talk to you. I know how it feels, I still stand upon that stage.For the German audience of the Berlin-Website of Lexikus Publishing, this interview with Dr. I count the days like a prisoner in a cage. ![]() "I CAN rip you out, I just CHOOSE not to."Īnything and everything that was me leaves,īy the way, you can't fix your problem with a med. I'd always run up the down escalator, like a crazy kid. She will one day be in the warm light, while I'm still stuck in the cold indigo. I didn't understand them then, but now I think I know. "I'm moving up, and you're moving down." These were her last words. I could feel her lift the mirror, this was her chance, let it be known.Ī crashing blankness came down on me, soon after the last things I heard. I looked into her sad blue eyes, just for one more glance. I don't know why I felt I must, but I wiped the tears away just to savor her touch. She, slowly lifting a mirror from the dust. So please my love, take your choice of my death. No dagger, short enough to match my heart's beat. No sword is long enough to show my love for thee. I smiled wryly and told her in the softness of my voice, "Let it be done, and be free. Love walked to me with tearful eyes, as if she had no choice. My love paused, and the wicked woman's old twig of a finger pointed off to me. I have died.Ī wicked woman told my love, "**** him and you will be free." It will burst, destroying me, if it doesn't **** me first. Hold up stop! I'm letting go, a bubble that will pop. I've destroyed myself, if others didn't do a perfect job. Now I stare, towards the end that's never ending like this script. What you see is a host, not the ghost, that lives on. Do not lie! For I see with one eye, the look through me. And I become something greater than simple little shrew. I, immortal to myself have stomped the true. ![]() I crush the old me and start anew, though I grew. I can touch to the shelter covered in the unbelieving, underachieving to be who I know I am to be. So I hide, then I quiver and I shake as 'me' is inside. If I tried, to be real, the pieces fall apart inside. There I stand once again as a memory of all that I pretend. For I exist in heart, but never, not in mind. I, to be, it's master and it's longing family, here I cry. And you threw to me the horror show, I never so have thought would reckon me to be. Feel the clench of a bundle of what you yourself have drench and so benched. Threatened heart, from the strings that wrap it, tearing it apart. I hear the screams and feel the burn, so why? Why unsure, of what's telling me my life is so impure. Here I fall, there I stand like a robot dancing to the tunes. ![]() Oh too bad, well how sad, if the songs last lines din't matter it'd harm, it'd make the soul so very mad. Never sure what I feel for the meal of a deal and then words more like air slip the breeze in my hair, butterflies in the skies killing what kept my alive. I get the crust and the gristle of a thistle once a missile shooting out into the sky and I cry, wonder why. ![]()
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