by Sleeping Village

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  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Comes in a digipack with 8 pages full colour booklet. AP024.

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M. - all instruments, lyrics
Tryfar - vocals

All songs by Sleeping Village.

Artwork and layout by Tryfar.

All tracks were recorded during August/September 2007.

Released by Ashen Productions as digipack MCD with 8 pages full colour booklet, AP024.


released January 18, 2010



all rights reserved


Sleeping Village Volterra, Italy

The project was created by Mortifer (aka M.) in Volterra (Tuscany, Italy) at the end of 2002.

The monicker could be simply interpreted as a nocturnal and secluded place, or thoroughly, a metaphor for isolation both mental and physical from other people and contemporary world.
It was taken from the homonymous song by Black Sabbath.
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Track Name: My quality of being
I am like the wind
I am like the rain
My fingers
Leave a mark, a stain
A stamp of my own particular obscurity
On everything I touch.
And experience
And bliss
And oblivion
And that divine spark
My spirit so yearns for
Must be left unmarred,
Untouched by me,
Devoid of me,
Of my own logic,
Of my quality of being.
They must be left
Life itself
Vicious life
Is keeping me
From tasting it
From becoming part of it
From savouring that fullness of colour
And flavour
I so long for...
Vicious life
Has confined me to a world
Of strange fogs
On this side of the locked gate
Stones and water forever denied me
Because I
Do not know
Track Name: Bliss
I drifted gently
Over infinite horizons
And clear oceans of azure
Lit by soft stars
Devoid of contradiction
Waves lapping on the shore
Stirring my heart
As it thumped in my chest
Rising and falling
Sensations materialising
In it
Like delicate specks of fragrant, glittering dust.
Brushes against my cheek
As I breathe in
And the black seagulls fly away.
I still carry in me
A fragment, shimmering beneath the dust,
Of eternal gold...
It can be June in December, after all.
Track Name: Yet longing for more
Yet longing for more
Longing for a tool, a third eye
To help you see
through the infinitely intricate patterns
The cunningly deceiving lines.
Nothing truly well-known and familiar
Down here
Everything is confusion
And muddled, self-unconscious
Every time
Every single time
I try to make sense
Of myself
Of another
I lose myself in a labyrinth
In a maze of conflicting signs
Pointing in all possible directions.
Every time
Every single time
I try to follow any one of them
I end up on a dead-end road
In a dead arm
Of the maze
Unable to proceed any further
Unsure how to go back
Unwilling to take any of the other paths
That beckon from my left
From my right.
I lose myself, each and every time.