This is an archival website for music written, recorded, and/or produced by Dietrich Kammer.
The winter is always longer in front of my door
That's because it's in the shadows and the sun is rarely there
I still slide upon the ice while the rest of the world
Sees spring without the snow, then I'm tossed into the summer
Without preparation or a song, can you now understand
Why I'm hanging from this bench
The pain you sent to me by means of sorcery
Could not outrule my own, I still felt very forlorn
Until I saw your face so near that I could feel
Your breath's pressure strong as a heel kicked hard into a shin
I’m searching for the pain, that's coming through to me
And makes me feel alive
I see a bunch of roses fly, I make a deal with the sky
That I won't catch a single one, what is wrong with the world
I'll tell it from my soul, I won't fight no more
Pleasant trips I took into the letters of a book
It spoke to me through thoughts, though I didn't believe a word
It left a mark I couldn't erase
Here is the one that turns hearts and stomachs into stones
A book that's read on a bench can make a difference if
You're the one that writes the last page in your mind
Spring makes half an entrance here, when hearts like stones begin to cry
Red bloody tears begin to appear they make a wonderful ink
For your own book
Today I had to leave my room, with courage I stepped outside
The snow was ankle deep and began to melt beneath my feet
Just a few meters I had to walk, then the snow was completely gone
I didn't want to return to my room with all the precious stuff in there
It felt so very unfair to see all of that snow
In front of my door
Judas steps forward, he shakes your hand
And tells you, you're the man what else could a man do
Then determine his fate and use whatever ways there are
To make it forward, then he tells you, you're alright
A bag of gold at his side, turns around and walks down to the temple
You never see him again
Pale and lit is the night, flooded by moonlight
You said goodbye to the one who turned hearts and stomachs into stone
You can't quit laughing at the thought, that rocks is all you bought
And that they were former hearts, now resting on your shelves
As books, records and other junk, here is another one
To be put with them