|
A quite lengthy track reaching up to nine and a half minutes. During recording sessions I really didn't have much faith in this song but eventually as the final details were polished I realised
it would be a helluva track! Actually, that is much the case. Not often does the final result end up like I have imagined it in the beginning. And during that long struggle everything seems to change. It is then quite common that I doubt the songs identity at such extend that I want to cast the whole thing aside.
And believe me, this track was ever so close. It was not until the first verse was fixed up and almost half the lyrics were rewritten - or perhaps more accurate - added (original words were only half as long) - that I felt satisfied. Anyway, one of the vital parts of this song is the storyline of the lyrics. Believe it or not but some believe that everything told in the lyrics actually happened at a castle here in Sweden, named Engsoslott (or Engsoecastle in English). This is just a fragment of that castles horrid history. I only mention the lady Britta Bååt but she is perhaps more associated with the castle than the Count who played the game of dice with the Devil (and whom this song is dedicated to). Engsoslott is one of the worlds most attractive sites for ghost and haunting research. I've been there... at day. Don't know if I dare visit it at midnight though!! (And by the way, the chain of gold mentioned at the end of the song does exist and have been witnessed by yours truly since it is on display at the Engsöcastle) The song is kind of devided into two parts. Rather fast interludes make up the first part as the second covers more "folkish" grounds. |
 En svunnen Dröm - Vidöppna ögon I Grevens bädd - Där Sömn är ett Minne blott Och när Timmen blir sen och Rastlösa Steg från Hall till Hall Sliter Tystnaden isär I Hans Kristna själ... ...Gror Begär Ett Spel för Två men Han är ensam här Åh Gud, ett Spel, för Hans kuvna själ I bitter Ensamhet önskar Greven sig Sällskap för Tidsfördriv Om så med Djävulen själv! ...Och se som Gudasänd, en Främling anländer Mörk och med sitt Ansikte skylt, och Se... Med Redskap i sin Hand För varje kast, för var gång Då tärningarna falled ljudlöst till bords Sitter Främlingen tyst, ej ett ord från Hans Läppar så länge spelet skrider Vidare Greven darrar lätt på Hand när Han fattar tärningarna I Vänster Hand, och än en gång kastar dom till bords Och i Månens kalla sken som Från Ovan tränger ner På dom båda som i Tystnad spelar sitt Spel Ett Slott i Natten mörkt och kallt vid den Kyrkogård där Forna Minnen ligger Djupt i Jord Men ej Djupt nog att jaga Sägnerna Bort från tjänstefolks gemak Och bort från Arvet Greven bär Likt en pil igenom Glömskans Frukt Skär en smak av bitter Hågkomst av Britta Bååt! Han ser på Mannen framför sig På vars haka är det enda som syns Händer klädda i handskar Som för att dölja allt vad Han är Greven vinner spel efter spel Och när sen Gryning Nalkas Reser sig Främlingen opp och från Hans hand Faller Guld - Tvunnet i Länkar Som pant för Grevens själ Då Djävulen kom till Engsö Igen |
 A Vanished Dream - Eyes wide open In the Chambers of the Count - Where sleep is but a Memory And when the hour strikes close to midnight And Restless pacings from Hallway to Hallway Tears the silence apart In His Christian soul... ...Desire grows A Game for Two but He is still alone here Oh God, just One Game, for His soul subdued In bitter Lonelyness the Count wishes himself Company for the passing of time If so be it, with the Devil himself! ...And look as if Godsend, a Stranger arrives Dark and with his face covered, And look... With tools clutched in his hand For every toss, for every time The dices fall silently to table The stranger sits quiet, not one word escapes his lips As long as the Game passes on The Count trembles Slightly on hand as He seizes the dices in His Left Hand And once again throws them to the table And in the pale light of the Moon that enters far above And falls upon the two, who in silnce plays their Game A Castle in the Night dark and damp by the Cemetary Where Ancient Memories lies buried deep in soil But not deep enough to hunt the fairytales From the servants quarters, and away From the Heretige the Count unwillingly carries Like an arrow through the Fruit of Oblivion Carreers a taste of bitter remembrance of Britta Bååt! He gazes at the Man on the opposite Whose chin is the only skin uncovered Hands dressed in Gloves as if to conceal all what He is The Count wins game after game And when twilight arrives The stranger rises from the table and out of his hand Falls gold - Twined together into links of a chain As pledge for the Counts soul When the Devil came to Engsö Again |
