Really Me




All music written by Paul Verhoogt
All lyrics by Paul Verhoogt (except for “Romanţă meschină”: Ion Minulescu)
Recording, sound engineering and mixing: Paul Verhoogt
Produced by Paul Verhoogt


Paul Verhoogt: Voices, Nylon string guitar, 12-string guitar, electric guitar, Piano, keyboards, computer generated and manipulated sounds
Dan Ioniţa : Soprano Saxophone
Geanina Săveanu: Violin
Wim Verhoogt: Didgeridoo



© 2009 Paul Verhoogt. All rights reserved. Unauthorized copying, public performance and broadcasting prohibited.



1. Overture in D-minor




2. Liquid Eyes



As we met along this silent road, slowly moving through the bitter cold,
when morning rose to the light of dawn, its colours revealed that you were gone.
Or were they just silly dreams in vain, which try to cover this silent pain,
I would not know as I move along, wandering along the lines of this song.


Let me once look into the colours of your hair, like autumn’s forest I can see all your colours there.
Let me once look into your liquid eyes, the frozen rain out of solid blue skies.


You might soon forget my name, push the button for “end of game”,
a game played and failed to be won, its rules forgotten when you came along.
Your image a remainder through all these years, its colours pale by moonlight’s tears,
your liquid eyes that lay inside, a frozen look on this cold winter’s night.




Let me once look into you liquid eyes, that once belonged to my paradise,
but snakes in trees I should not have trust, turned dreams to ashes, my faith to dust.
On a dark and kind of Christmas Eve, sweet tenderness I should deceive,
my crucified thoughts and prayers to late, to change my luck already sealed by fate.




This song I wrote for you and me, might be more than we’ll ever be,
if it’s all that I can give to you, on this silent road where we came through.
I just hope it makes you feel inside, warm and precious on some lonely night,
as your liquid eyes slowly melt away, in silent pools of “so many words to say”…………



3. Gate Number Seven



All the grieve that swallows your senses, and feelings you waste, ignore,
as the tide of all new seasons washes your deepest desires ashore.
You keep on looking for brighter skies to come,
but the fading light as night falls makes you falling asleep once more.


Close your eyes and you will see, why it’s so dark all around you,
close your mouth and you will hear the things I have to say.
There is more to life than just living, take the time to see yourself,
the reflections in your brain they all have gone astray.


The closest gate to heaven, where you can catch a flight every single day,
is gate number seven, pack up your life and leave straight away!


It’s not until she packed her luggage and turned away from you,
leaving her keys on the table, saying: “have a nice life too”.
Her last footsteps in the staircase, the confusion in you head,
was this what you’ve been waiting for, now what you’re gonna do.




Driving up to nowhere, endless akers in the sun,
close the gap between whatever, and the things that make you run.
The sweet summer breeze and the smell of nature’s perfume,
all the shapes under the sun, making your life like just begun.


Gliding over dark blue oceans, plains and deserts beneath the clouds,
but your soul finds no direction, a boat steered by a few shrouds.
You move as far as you can get, closing in on what will be,
till you reach gate number seven, line up for your destiny.




You move as far as you can get, closing in on what will be,
’till you reach gate number seven, line up for you destiny.





4. Really Me



Took a thousand million pictures on a warm and sunny day,
saw a thousand million light beams coming from so far away,
without thoughts or memories stranded on my sensitive plate,
unaware of their captivation, ’till an unknown distant date.



All our life is lost in memories, little cells that have no key,
hidden answers I was seeking, in what wasn’t really me,
really me……..


Send a thousand million postcards from a place I’ve never been,
to a thousand million people, friends I guess I’ve never seen.
I’m a knight that’s lost in dreaming, wandering on my Trojan horse,
waiting outside your castle, a fortress that has no doors.




All we really left behind us on this long and silent road,
are a thousand million images, on my soul they drift and float,
smells of thousand million places, in exotic dreams that haunt the night,
breeds the bitter sweet deception, of a battle that lost the fight.





5. Moving Earth



Move the earth to some different place,
two suns will lit two different days,
the northern lights will burst to flames,
your twilight shadows over my cold remains.


Showers of light washed out the rain,
and carry on, in an endless refrain,
from heaven’s shelters to Zeus’ throne,
beyond the spheres even to gods unknown.


I thought that I should explain to you,
that colours have changed their pallets for you.
The blue that once filled our sky with grace
now purple clouds in a soft white haze.


My summer dream in your winter sleep,
will wake you up, will sigh and weep.
The sizzling snow on your naked breast,
your melting flesh by my heat possessed.




Now could you please move back for me,
the earth that got stuck on this thorn tree.
I’ll tell you tales of the earth that once,
reached out for the stars in a moonlit dance.





6. Wild River Bend



The blood in your veins runs with fear into the dark,
hunting dreams far beyond you in the light of one spark.
You met her a million times in many different ways,
in her dark white motion under the shield of a thousand days.


As your breath is getting shorter, and the silence she makes leads you in vain.
Now can you please make me believe, my mind disturbs me so,
I need it now, I need you now……


Your gaze over the water, your feet covered with sand,
trying to clear your mind holding your memories in your hand.
Now you juggle your thoughts around until their vapour moistens the air,
like a million invisible raindrops, tears of your love’s despair.




Now the mist sets in covering shades of a timeless event,
while the horn’s warning sound without beginning, middle or end,
marks the shoreline of your messages in the empty bottles you sent,
thrown from a sinking raft in the wild river bend.




As autumn falls and gathers mortal souls above your head,
in the light of the migrating sun moving from yellow, orange to red.
They carry your tales over the wastelands behind the wild river bend,
the cradle of your childhood before that strange timeless event.





7. Hannibal’s journey




8. Drawing Clouds on empty Skies



walking on a sunny morning away from all the noise,
I close my eyes and listen to my mind.
I could hear the daylight falling from noon to break of day,
leaving all the troubled me behind.


Walking on a different day, a different play shaped on the edge of a dice.
A different sun would lead the way, by drawing clouds on empty skies.


And all the things I said, just emptying my head,
making way for a different me to come.
But our faces in the mirror will always change as we stay the same,
because it’s a different me you know me from.





9. Waiting for a Smile



Waiting for a smile,
from just a moment passing by,
from just a face that stands out in the crowd,
and makes me wonder what I’m all about.


Waiting for a smile,
from silence that spoke for a while,
in my mind surrounded by your eyes
filled up with dreams or just complex lies.


In your eyes, when daylight starts to shine
in your soul, you’ll lead me into your shrine
in your eyes, soul, eyes
in your soul, eyes, soul


Waiting for a smile,
from summer’s breeze that once made us fly,
stolen moments left behind in exile,
as we send ourselves to trial.




Still waiting for a smile,
from a moment just passing by,
from a face that stands out in the crowd,
and makes me wonder what I’m all about.





10. Romanţă meschină  (Poetry: Ion Minulescu – 1936)



Dacă-ai crezut c-ar fi putut să fie
Ceva mai mult decât ce-a fost, te-ai înşelat!…
N-a fost decât un început de nebunie,
De care-ntâmplător ne-am vindecat!…


N-a fost decât un zbor de triolete
Pe care un poet le-a scris în vis,
În cinstea celei mai frumoase fete,
Şi-a-nnebunit de’ndată ce le-a scris!…


N-a fost decât ce nu se poate spune
Decât cu ochii-nchişi şi pe-nnoptat,
În ritmul unui început de rugăciune
Pentru iertarea primului păcat!…


N-a fost decât ce-a trebuit să fie,
Şi, dac-a fost cu-adevărat ceva,
N-a fost decât un strop de veşnicie
Desprins dintr-un meschin “et caetera!”…



11. A dijala




12. Long ride Home



The winding valley road into the dimmed silk light,
taking shelter for the night, and distant thunder rolling,
in the orchards high above, a moment of deep remorse, conceiving her change of course.


The speechless coffee break left her voice floating on the air.
The notes she sang so bright, fade out on her distant march,
went over the green hills, with shepherds on her trail, guidance for those who fail.


You shouldn’t hurry to make it until home,
you shouldn’t worry my friend, to be out there alone.
You’re on a long ride home towards the midnight sun,
for the play’s missing curtain, of a story that has never begun.





13. P.S.