Acoustic tracks 2015

by Scarlet Stories

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Acoustic tracks of songs of the EP Resurrection (2015)
Released 21st of May 2015


released May 22, 2015

Music by Bram te Kamp and Lisette van den Berg
Lyrics by Lisette van den Berg
All rights reserved

Recorded at Studio PlayOn (Utrecht, NL)
Recorded, mixed and mastered by Leon Coolegem

Lisette van den Berg - vocals
Bram te Kamp - Acoustic guitar



all rights reserved


Scarlet Stories Netherlands

Scarlet Stories explores the dark corners of progressive music; one moment fragile and delicate and the other intense, passionate and fierce!

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Track Name: The Tell-Tale Heart (acoustic version)
The Tell-Tale Heart
After ‘the tell-tale heart’ from E.A. Poe, 1843
Lyrics by LM van den Berg/Scarlet Stories

While the old man slumbers,
A shimmer in the dark is cast upon the bed
In a sickening desire, infatuated longing
To witness the vulture’s eye in the light’s shed

Oh, but never the eye is opened
Biding his time, night after night
Watching sweet ignorance, vanity rising
Feelings of triumph and might

Conceited chuckles disturb the silence
The innocent man awakes from repose
In mortal terror he shivers
An unseen shadow of death lingering close

“Who’s there?”, the old man cries
But no answer returns

Then, a dim ray of light pierces through the darkness
Falling right upon the damned eye,
for which the madman so yearns

Oh, the beating of his heart increases
Rising and rising, beats in the night
He who’s been waiting
Can’t take it no longer
Feelings of terror and fright

One shriek in the night, And it’s all over...

Stone dead body,
Breathing nevermore
Cutting up the corpse in pieces
Placing them carefully under the floor

Man of justice, alarmed by the shriek
Are brought to the chamber of the deed
But do not find what they seek

Then the madman starts to hear
A sound like the old man’s heartbeat
Foaming and raging, he screams:
Villains, I admit the deed!
Track Name: Dance of Narcissism (acoustic version)
Dance of Narcissism
Lyrics by LM van den Berg/Scarlet Stories

Blurry figures wade through colours of a thousand rubies
The odds even lost beforehand
Warm blood trickling down his skin
Black veils waving at the morbid dance of narcissism

Silver brilliance of the blade
Inviting Death to do his part
But his suffering is prolonged
As his martyrdom is the virtue of their acquisition

Waiting until the final stroke is performed
to rest, and let the calm of death
take over and put him out of his misery
Justified torment for culture’s sake
Cowardly voyeurs, presumptuous lowlife

Flower petals falling from the sky
Covering up his final deathbed