Hunger for Light is a concept album, tells a connected story, which he presents in eight steps, through eight songs. The eight songs open eight small windows on the history of mankind. This story is completely timeless if we abstract it from objects and people. Fear, war, desire, love, love, hate, hunger, lies, collapse and starting over have been around for as long as humanity has existed. Each song (lyrics) is accompanied by a short story, told from the point of view of our protagonist.
Minden így van jól/Everything is fine
I think that I didn't close the curtains perfectly in my high intoxication. Some beams of light began to penetrate my retina. I discovered a deep rumble coming from the direction of the bedside table. Yes, this is my mobile. For a few seconds, I wonder how much the hangover has taken over me. I have to raise my head for this, but at the moment, clinging to the safety of the pillow, I still click, wondering who is the crazy person who can search at this hour? After my hand was successfully attached to my third limb, I was able to determine that eight in the morning was a long time ago. I am torn between two worlds. There are things I do, there are things I can only imagine doing, and there are things I should definitely do. The planes are sliding on top of each other, at this point I can no longer decide what exactly is there. Struggling with my own self-inflicted demons, I don't even notice that the manus is sizzling slowly at half past five in the afternoon. I crawl out of bed like a zombie, then I press the switch on the coffee machine. In this case, the red light radiating confidence flashes, and I start the day. About time, isn't it?! On the way to the shower, I stumble upon the guitar case I left open.
Instead of spicy swearing, the chords spoken in the evening fill my ever-awakening brain. This is inescapable. I throw myself down on the armchair and hold the little one close to me. Oh yeah! This was that! In fact, the more I play the chord sequence, the more specific images are attached to it, and by the time I get together with the guys, it will become a finished note. Again, the something that this song is about captures you. Minutes, maybe hours, pass before I'm actually in the shower. The water is falling well, rebirths are taking place, and slowly a semi-energetic body is joining the zigzagging thoughts. The time is slowly approaching midnight. The flames seemed to be dancing to some ancient tune before my eyes. My fingers walk on the strings like a reflex. I can hear the others talking and talking to me, but it turns into a monotonous chirping. I'm in a different age now. The fire warms my body and soul. It is likely that I would burn like this, we would burn at the stake. If we had to pay for what is good, for the light that we absorb, for the darkness that we praise as our muse, for the theories that we weave threads for day by day, for the sometimes serious but honest words that leave our mouths, for the goosebumps that rock N' roll causes, for our heart, which feels what it wants, and for our brain, which thinks what it wants. And yes, we would burn, we would burn. The night is mine, the day is mine. I am free, there is no lock in front of me. If I have to pay in the end, so be it, even if it's expensive, because everything is fine that way, but really!
Hova tart a világ?/Where is the world going?
Yesterday, my main problem was how to pay for rock n roll. I was thinking of barbarian times. They say well, don't paint the devil on the wall, because he will appear... I think the sun didn't rise today, or something covered the sky so dark that my knees trembled at the sight, and hope slowly let go of my hand and stomped behind me like a shadow, keeping an increasing distance. Stepping into the street, after rubbing my half-sleeping eyes, I pinched it in my arm.
A neon green armband from last week was there. Hurt! So I'm not dreaming. If I don't pull myself together, I'm sure to slip away. A group of 5 scootered along the sidewalk with bags and suitcases in their hands. After I regain consciousness, I notice that the situation is no different on the other side. A mother drags a child behind her while screaming desperately into the phone, which she later throws into a random bush. A police car passes me, shouting something to keep calm, follow the instructions and not lose contact with the TV and the radio, I guess there's no reason to panic. Guided by some instinct, I legitimately panic when they say? There's no reason to panic! I keep hearing sirens from all directions.
Military helicopters take over the sky. Shouting and screaming fills the street. Panic for no reason begins to take over more and more. I don't know this street, this city anymore! I am trying to contact someone to get useful information about the nightmare that has developed without news. I try to look like a leper at anyone and they look away with evil eyes like some kind of immigrant flea. I recognize the car of one of my ex-colleagues. I quickly run over there. As soon as he gets out of the car, he opens up and carefully locks his vehicle. He targets the nearest ATM. Only then do my eyes catch the mask he used to cover his face. What's all the fuss about? I have to call him several times before he honors me with his attention. The features are the same, he raises his eyebrows in the same way as before. What has completely changed is his gaze. He glanced at me every now and then, then shook with the struggle to finally leave me alone. My questions seem to hit walls. He shrugs his shoulders briskly, and then leaves him to fight in the street that has slowly turned into a wilderness. I tried my scouting action a few more times and then I just kept silent. The circus noise was slowly replaced by a desperate silence. I was lost in my thoughts. I didn't notice that a police car was passing me. Reflexively, I rushed. Through the park, then I reached the clearing that leads to the shore of the lake, where I philosophized about some damnation during the night. My legs gave up, I fell. I felt the smell of the earth, the panting of the dogs in my face, the hands that grabbed my arm, and the rumbling that originated around my heart and went around my whole body.
Sötétség/Darkness
I sat in the darkened room for days. I thought the light was poisoning me too. I ate what I had accumulated in my sudden desperation. As my reserves dwindled, my patience also shrunk more and more. I haven't turned on the radio in quite some time. I got rid of the TV in the first days. The same thing was said every day, brainwashing every single person into a zombie.
As if they were trying to reprogram the brain of humanity in a few days. Don't be afraid, let's stay home. Let's find out only from authentic (TV and radio) sources! Don't touch each other! The clock slowly strikes midnight. It might be a nice summer evening outside, I don't know, I can only guess or imagine. I jump down into the garage, open the lid of the tool box, grab a hammer and a crowbar. I think I've had enough of being locked up. I've had enough of the news, the daily intimidation, being told inch by inch what I have to do, what I'm allowed to do. As time went on, I increasingly viewed my front door as an enemy.
I channeled the anger, pain, and despair that had gathered inside me into my right hand. I was not in shape, I tried stretching in several places. Suddenly it occurred to me that it was as if I had to open a giant can. From this thought, I imperceptibly jumped to the canned food, which I have been eating for days, I eat it because I have no other choice. I'm eating because I've been told I can't leave my apartment.
Another dose of venom and revenge traveled into my blue-gripped wrist. Chips popped out near the clamped iron. The plank nailed up from outside fell to the ground. For a moment, I thought that this image, this sound only lives in my head, only because I long for it so much that I lull myself into an improvised illusion. The door opened, so it really happened. I took my backpack off the rack and threw some random things in it. I didn't know where I was going, what I wanted, and even if I could succeed? As I stepped out into the night, the smell of the summer evening hit me, the crickets sang in the bushes, the wind waved my face. I absorbed all of this like an addict who finally gets his stuff after a long time. I am convinced that the monster that they have painted before us exists only in their heads. The animals have not forgotten to live, nature continues its work in the same way as it has done so far, we pulled our brains crushed to pulp like dogs into our scum waiting for death or to become a programmed robot man. The moon smiled at me from above, only then did I notice that the street lights were not on, the only source of light was the corpse-pale, but all the more alive, moon. I crept along the empty street like a shadow. The whole city resembled the set of some zombie apocalypse movie. Piles of garbage lay in front of the houses, cars parked irregularly, and flower gardens that had turned into bushes peeked out from the "crypt houses" that kept the dead. Passing through the clearing, I quickly found myself in the forest. The silence of the city was replaced by the mysterious gnashing of teeth in the forest. I was suddenly awakened from my nightmare by the screeching of an owl. I have to force myself. My frantic fingers frantically search the bag for a flashlight. Unsuccessfully. It reminds me of my old cell phone. I quickly turn on the light and start the night.
Bennem élsz!/You live inside me!
I have had no light source for quite some time now, only what the moon throws at me. I book it as some sort of silent companion. In fact, sometimes I find myself talking to him. My motivation is starting to wane. The forest is getting darker and darker, the night is getting colder, and the strength is getting more and more out of my legs. I'm scared, but I know it's here somewhere. I know that I have a part of me that fights, that doesn't give up, that does everything for the goal, even if it's not clearly defined at this moment. I get new strength. I am no longer looking for a self, but a feeling, a quality. Yes! Formulated! It's called Courage. It's here somewhere, I know it. Like a small, nimble bird, I start to chase in the darkness before me. My steps will be more and more numerous, my goal is to find him and lock him in me. I get closer and closer, it is already within arm's reach, then with a sudden movement it flies again, my hand grabs empty into nothingness. I won't give up, I need it. I need him to be able to do this all the way through, to survive, to be the "hepiende" of it all. I don't know where I can be, everything is so much the same, it could also be that I am constantly closing the same circle, in some repetitive catastrophic process. The leaves of the trees flutter here and there. Some gentle, mystical summer breeze blows into the night like an ambush. I'll catch you. No more running away, no more running away. I feel it in my stomach. I can feel it flapping its wings, while my wings are growing too. He lives in me and I live in him, together we go along this road that leads to nowhere for now. I am no longer afraid, because I am more than everything I underestimated myself to be. I no longer circulate like a silent song hunting for ears, I am no longer a shore without water, an eye without tears. I know that he lives in me, I am no longer afraid, I no longer ask for anything. My blood boils, I believe, I fight and I hope!
Ellentétek/Opposites
The night slowly gives way to the dawn so that the morning can come. The moon yawns goodbye, and I subconsciously thank it for its cooperation. The dense forest was replaced by a clearing. Suddenly I'm not sleepy. The first ray of sunlight hits my face, and then an awakening elixir circulates in my veins. Flowers. Flowers that open at midday, sleepily wipe their eyes, starting another day. I saw you there. I paused tentatively. At first I only saw your back.
We live in days when everyone is everyone's enemy, and primarily we read only bad intentions on anyone's face. It was programmed into us. I did that too. I spun quick theories about your shape, your existence, your goals, without even knowing you. I let a few more minutes pass. You jumped to your feet on instinct. You stepped back cautiously, you did the same as I did. This is what the world has turned us into. We stared into each other's eyes silently, waiting for the other to say the first word. I saw something of myself in you. Some sympathy I hadn't seen in any of the panic-soaked looks in months. You were like me. I saw that you see what I see. We have somewhat become animals, we protect our territory, ourselves.
We instinctively refrain, we instinctively defend ourselves before they attack. Finally, we take the first step at the same time. We speak at the same time, we remain silent at the same time, and then at the same time our lips finally curl into a smile after all this time. I confess, I completely forgot about this feeling, it's a wonder that my facial muscles are still capable of this action. I can see and hear you thinking the same thing. It's all dreamy. A I wonder if it's really happening? I haven't eaten in a long time. I kept the hardened muesli slices in my bag as trophies for the worse times. My thoughts are dispersed like clouds by a deep humming sound from the direction of the sky. Your face turned pale. I'm not dreaming. Instinctively, you grab my hand and we run halfway through the forest together. I'm starting to dare, without you saying a word. Your coat is muddy, your pants are torn here and there, the dark circles under your eyes show that you slept as much as I did. We took the same route. The sky becomes silent, we remain alone, the silence of the forest is broken only by the frantic noise of our hearts pumping in our chests. I feel and hear that rhythm in my ears. We fall to the ground like discarded marionettes. Hours pass. You ask, I answer. I will ask and you will answer. The picture that emerges of each other becomes clearer and sharper. Somehow we are not alike and yet we are the same. Together we embark on the still aimless journey. When they would instinctively go right, you pull left. When a roar rising from the depths would leave my mouth, you tell me to be quiet. If they go outside, you will surely pull them inside. We are tiny puzzle pieces, completely different, but perfectly fitting together, connected in different ways and from different directions to this big whole that we call the world.
A hídon állsz/Standing on the bridge
Stories about the modern apocalypse have long been fermenting in a dusty chest. We went further and yet back. We took one step forward, then two steps back. The new world is not so new. We chase money, we chase possessions, we give as much as we got and nothing more. The apartment is big, the car is new. We chew on nonsense. We would run away, but there is nowhere to go. We exercise our legs in a degenerate squirrel wheel. We condemned ourselves to an eternal rush. The small joys are pushed into the background, at our forced gatherings we only complain: the loan, the child, the job, the boss. And then there is the lack of time. We constantly say that we don't have time for anything. In practice, time has become the new gold. We will pay anything for a free hour, a weekend spent at home, half an hour of undisturbed reading. The time-consuming monster lives in our heads. If we are able to believe that it does not exist, it will indeed disappear. Let's dedicate our minutes to what is really important. Let's move higher on our "knowledge" what is really worth living for, which really makes us more than any other creatures. We are human beings. And when, at the very end, life hands us the bill on a silver platter, we realize that we are paying for nothing. We bought something we didn't need. What we really wanted was stuck forever in the imaginary window of the years we left behind.
Kár számlálni/don't think about it
Stories about the modern apocalypse have long been fermenting in a dusty chest. We went further and yet back. We took one step forward, then two steps back. The new world is not so new. We chase money, we chase possessions, we give as much as we got and nothing more. The apartment is big, the car is new. We chew on nonsense. We would run away, but there is nowhere to go. We exercise our legs in a degenerate squirrel wheel. We condemned ourselves to an eternal rush. The small joys are pushed into the background, at our forced gatherings we only complain: the loan, the child, the job, the boss. And then there is the lack of time. We constantly say that we don't have time for anything. In practice, time has become the new gold. We will pay anything for a free hour, a weekend spent at home, half an hour of undisturbed reading. The time-consuming monster lives in our heads. If we are able to believe that it does not exist, it will indeed disappear. Let's dedicate our minutes to what is really important. Let's move higher on our "knowledge" what is really worth living for, which really makes us more than any other creatures. We are human beings. And when, at the very end, life hands us the bill on a silver platter, we realize that we are paying for nothing. We bought something we didn't need. What we really wanted was stuck forever in the imaginary window of the years we left behind.
Szűkszavú/Tight-lipped
We've been up and we've been down. We've practically been through hell and now we're whining about little things. We don't even know what we want, but if we could, we wouldn't dare to take a single step to achieve the goal. I say don't be afraid to take risks, especially if you've been dead inside for a long time, if you've long since given your body and soul for the shit you got as a payment, which according to the scenario you should be happy about. You say I'm tight-lipped, that I'm silent, but you don't see the fire burning in my eyes. How can I say anything when I've already said everything?! I told you that there is no point in war. There is no point in any victory if you end up with a pile of cold weapons, millions of lifeless flesh. What's the point of a gun if I end up without a comrade? What's the point of the palace if I'm running away from haunting spirits every night, driving myself crazy. What is the point of patting our chests after planting a few trees, if they will be sentenced to death anyway. Even heaven would forgive them if some teeth-grinding storm laid them to the ground. I would laugh at this, but it hurts, I don't even try to cry. You say I'm narrow-minded, but I also told you that I don't ask for this world, I don't ask for the blue from the sky, because I can no longer fly. I don't ask the earth for the black one, because it covered too many corpses. I don't believe the doctor's word until you have to die senselessly, even if the cure was born a long time ago. I don't ask for the thoughts that pulsate in my brain infecting my everyday life with eternal darkness. I said that I hate it, that the smile is fake, that the red bow is fucking big, but the box is empty, the contents are worthless. The horse was only painted white, the knight in the dream is also only plastic. I'm not tight-lipped, I've just said everything...
