Hapax - Silvery Track (Official Video)

Details

Description

“Silvery Track”
This is the first single from our forthcoming EP “Exile”, a work conceived during the quarantine age and inspired by the desire to escape from the claustrophobic lockdown’s reality. Isolation leads one to reconsider oneself as an individual. On the other hand art has paid the highest price by being neglected and set aside.

“Culture only exists when it is experienced”
Hapax

Credits;
Director: Elio De Filippo (Studio Nubes)
Model: Alessandra Policella
Photography: Jessica Squillante
Location: Urbex Campania
Recorded, Mixed & Mastered at Hive Studios by Francesco Giuliano

Merch:
hapax.bandcamp.com

Hapax contact:
https://www.facebook.com/hapaxband​
https://www.instagram.com/hapax_official
https://soundcloud.com/listenhapax​
www.hapaxband.com

Booking:
hapaxmusic@gmail.com

LABEL:
CD or Vinyl (limited edition) Pre-orders released by Swiss Dark Nights
https://swissdarknights.bandcamp.com/album/exile

Lyric by Alessandra Policella

Silvery Track

Traces
Left behind everywhere,
A cigarette butt, a lost glove
A single careless word
All those proofs
The detective of fiction finds
So shrewdly
In these planned arbitrariness

The insane obsession
of wanting to be caught
‘Cause deep down the heart
Men are all murders
But by and large we are
not brave enough to dare
And in self-
constraint
We rather name the guilt ones.

Oh wind, wild wind, hold out your hand to us,
That slyly wipes out
The footprints of our steps.
But land has no memory
And wind just feeds on dust,
On pride of erased footsteps
And on dispersed clouds.

On all blown away marks

To rushing wants
and blood’s inflated passions
Crawls the vainglory’s slug
With its plodding telltale pace
We're nothing but
Its silvery track
That tells
“To no avail
once I crept along on earth”.

Oh wind, wild wind, hold out your hand to us,
That slyly wipes out
The footprints of our steps.
But land has no memory
And wind just feeds on dust,
On uprooted trees
And on all our wiped out marks

Oh wind, wild wind, hold out your hand to us,
That slyly wipes out
The footprints of our steps.
But land has no memory
And wind just feeds on dust,
On pride of erased footsteps
And on dispersed clouds.

On all blown away marks


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