The Mon - Demon Box - A story in music (official video)

This song is based on a story written by Urlo and titled “Demon Box“. You can read Demon Box and other stories on The Mon website. (​) Thanks to Pat for her perfect translations! Video by Malleus Rock Art Lab () Listen, watch and buy: ----------------- The Mon is the solo project of Urlo, bass player, singer and synth master of Ufomammut. Subscribe to the channel: ​ ​ ​ ​ Spotify: ​ CD/LP Store:​ Bandcamp: ​ --- The demon box was there, open, and I, dazed, could do nothing but stare. I saw the sea open up and men cross the moist sandy path, walking among fish without water and crabs without prey, and I saw death. I saw the sky become black and wrap humanity in the silence of the night, and death furiously running between us, with the sound of the rocks with which we, slaves, tried to break our chains. I found, in the fire, the sun extinguished of our lives, the slow creation of a wrinkle, the rotting of a body which to us appears always young, while others see as fading. I saw angels fishing souls in the emptiness of the clouds and extract them from the strangely-shaped diving suits which we once were, and then play the game of life, steal our children from their masters to kill the boredom of their own existence. I watched the non-existent god in his infinity, without even a face, lying in the clouds and desperate and I saw him scream in the anguish of his solitude, destroying worlds, exploding stars and provoking enormous tears, like waves, that even in the empty void created light. Then I saw the dream of life turn a wheel pulled by mules without eyes and horses without heads, and I saw the sky become light and sink, suddenly, in a cup. I saw the hidden clouds pile up behind a wall created by all the trees in the world united to resist against nothing and I saw my mother’s womb spit me out amongst the blood, a cold world waiting for me, without heat, without silence, without touch. I saw the earth rise up, on its feet, and tip over and rotate and change shape, howl its revenge for being downtrodden for centuries and I saw it swallow everything, ruin us all and embrace us, tear us apart, devour us and then smile while silently burping. I saw my hands stretch out and and fold like clay that without reason comes out of a hand-turned machine and ends up in an oven and every now and then a nail, a foot, a nose, an eye without life remains on the ground without a sound, without a sound. And the candles around me burned backwards and absorbed the smoke of the fire all that was around them, melting the walls, the ceilings, the glass, the floors, the furniture and the people, joining them in an eternal communion. I saw the thick fur of the tongue of a demon prick me and tease me and laugh laugh laugh laugh laugh laugh laugh and in his eyes the disease of his inferiority. All around horizons, sunrises and sunsets, suns and moons, northern lights and the equator in the middle of the sky like a shooting star, and the man and a monkey, dinosaurs and paper boats, all day and all night, and the rocks above the sea floating above the sky and I saw aeroplanes moving those buried in green fields of silence while I, in the middle of all this, believed, thought, dreamt of being alive. Alive. I am naked in the breath of the wind, with hair waving in the rain of all this light; I am without art or part; I am only me and not a god, without fingers to point in the face of this worldly world; I am so useless and infinitely small that watching an ant I laugh, believing that I can do so much more than it, because I can talk, I can think. But what do I know if the ant has a greater chance than me of finding the secret of all that is around the shapeless contours of our existence and the light and the boredom and the death and the shit that is spread on the smooth walls of the world that does not exist? Meanwhile the cockroaches look at the foot that squashes them, and are happy to be like Christ, destined to be killed at 33 or earlier, or is it all a joke? The ant is like the cicada anyway; one and alone in death. I looked at the box and I closed it. A smile of an eraser on my lips. I picked it up, placed it under my arm and turned around. I looked at the sky and vanished as I had arrived. The wind has already forgotten where the keys to paradise are.