Over You: a more refined event, discussing the search for the perfect kick – and its possible repercussions. Navigating the realms of 6/8 and 4/4, a mélange of singer-songwriter, swing and psychedelic flavors, a relaxing sip of the wondrous stuff so many of us crave…
And V3/Veruschka Bohn invites us with her marvelous, intriguing video into a realm of places we might be looking for!
Over You: ein etwas kultivierteres Ereignis, in der die Suche nach dem perfekten Kick erörtert wird – und die möglichen Auswirkungen. Durch die Welten des 6/8 und 4/4 navigierend, ist Over You alles Mögliche, auch eine Melange aus Singer-Songwriter, Swing und psychedelischen Aromen, ein entspannender Schluck des wundersamen Stoffs, von dem viele nicht genug kriegen…
Und mit ihrem fabelhaften, faszinierenden Video lädt V3/Veruschka Bohn uns in eine Welt der Orte ein, die wir vielleicht suchen!
Songtext – Over you
Now that I shove what’s left of Tom ‚round
in his wheelchair every day
the tears in his eyes, are they from joy or pain, I just don’t know
Has he seen what I’m yeah looking for,
is that smile on his face just a flickering trace?
Well I still haven’t found it, searched as I may every clue
well I begged and I borrowed and I bought myself sorrow
crying my eyes out again over you
Tom was a friend with a difference in mind,
well he lived in his multichrome world
visions we shared, bold and juvenile, hormone delight
wasn’t all we were yeah looking for
but that perfect illusion of perfect communion
Still haven’t found it, turned as I did every stone
well I begged and I borrowed and I bought myself sorrow
crying my eyes out again over you
Then came the time when Tom drifted along with his friends into substance abuse
the rocks in his veins kept on dragging him down, down, and down and down
oh hell, he did cry and the angels awake
well they pulled him up high but they left some behind
And I still haven’t found it, searched as I did every clue
well I begged and I borrowed and I bought myself sorrow
crying my eyes out again over you
Now that I shove what’s left of Tom ‚round
In his wheelchair, through the night
the tears in his eyes, are they from joy or pain, I just don’t know
has he found what I’m yet looking for,
is that smile on his face just a flickering trace?
Well I still haven’t found it, searched as I may every clue
well I begged and I borrowed and I bought myself sorrow
crying my eyes out again over you…