Uploaded November 2019 | Updated September 2026, 4 days ago
Song taken off the new HANGING GARDEN album "Into That Good Night", out now on Lifeforce Records
Order the new album as Ltd. LP, CD and digital here:
orcd.co/hg_intothatgoodnight
Based on the poem "Kiintymyksen eleitä" by Elli Leppä
Cinematography & direction - Nino Hynninen
Editing, CC & translation - Toni Toivonen
Lyrics:
Signs of Affection
Music: Jussi Hämäläinen / Lyrics: Elli Leppä
In the vague light of this dawnlit room
With tender feet a spider brushes my brow
She longs for the warmth and all the blessed things
Long since gone
In their stead
A starlit void to take us in
Unsullied altogether by a single city’s light
The profound silence of the woods
The strange serenity of these hollow homes
And those of us that remain able to provide
Each other these signs of affection
The perfect brown egg fresh from the coop
A crumble sweet, a mound of berries black
A warm cup of tea second to last in existence
A slight touch of gentle confusion
Of sorrow, of compassion, or risen from rare tenderness
All the more fragile and bittersweet in the dawning awareness
Of how little there is left to possess
To share
To sustain
To nurture a forlorn thread of hope resting in the cup if one’s palm
Not long now
I suppose the wind
Shall kill the last of flames
We’ve run out of things to burn and devour
Will it sooth us then, in the end of all things
To gently grasp the hand of another
Slowly growing cold
Song taken off the new HANGING GARDEN album "Into That Good Night", out now on Lifeforce Records
Order the new album as Ltd. LP, CD and digital here:
orcd.co/hg_intothatgoodnight
Based on the poem "Kiintymyksen eleitä" by Elli Leppä
Cinematography & direction - Nino Hynninen
Editing, CC & translation - Toni Toivonen
Lyrics:
Signs of Affection
Music: Jussi Hämäläinen / Lyrics: Elli Leppä
In the vague light of this dawnlit room
With tender feet a spider brushes my brow
She longs for the warmth and all the blessed things
Long since gone
In their stead
A starlit void to take us in
Unsullied altogether by a single city’s light
The profound silence of the woods
The strange serenity of these hollow homes
And those of us that remain able to provide
Each other these signs of affection
The perfect brown egg fresh from the coop
A crumble sweet, a mound of berries black
A warm cup of tea second to last in existence
A slight touch of gentle confusion
Of sorrow, of compassion, or risen from rare tenderness
All the more fragile and bittersweet in the dawning awareness
Of how little there is left to possess
To share
To sustain
To nurture a forlorn thread of hope resting in the cup if one’s palm
Not long now
I suppose the wind
Shall kill the last of flames
We’ve run out of things to burn and devour
Will it sooth us then, in the end of all things
To gently grasp the hand of another
Slowly growing cold
