The struggle for progress is illusive, there is always a next step. And which way is the horizon? 

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Our accomplishments and accidents that we gaze back at in pride make up the mighty skyline for the people left behind. To the horizon that we head for some others turn their backs, stare over their shoulder and sneer as they walk their own true path. Some sit with an empty face; leave nothing behind, see nothing ahead. But who am I to judge; we may end at the same place when we are dead. Searching for the future, or some kind of shed, to rest our weary head. 
  You run ahead and you stand still, you claim religion or your will. In your quest for the horizon, heaven knows what you will kill.

(Roses are dying; new ones will come. Grow in the earth; graveyard for some. View the horizon, deep in the grass. 
Roses keep growing, as the past laughs.
  Oh how brave, oh how strong? How hard until you see)
We are all children; we are all blind; born by our culture, torn by its mind. You want to be; no one is free.

You say you follow your heart. Well what you follow is your choice; just remember that it, or any other part, may not be guided by your own voice. In a quest for the horizon, does it matter if we run, walk in circles or straight ahead beneath the sun? Your ideas and truths you keep is like Lego, stolen here and there, from which you can build a whole new castle, or container for your fear. With each catastrophe rearranged, by hands you don't pretend to hear.
  You run ahead and you stand still...

(Roses don't know if they'll be picked. Or be left to rot, taunted and kicked. Roses can't reach, stretch their stem, Roses can't grow, high enough to know. Oh how tall, oh how strong. How hard until you see)
We are all drifting, living afloat; leaving the current, to steer our boat. You want to be; no one is free.

Dawn breaks, and morning aces come back to greet your day. You stay in bed to weigh your thoughts, and the leafs. "Been given my warning,” You say to the walls as you fight the tired aces. In silver-grey morning with all the leafs falling trough thin air to the lakes. With mourningbirds calling and thoughts that are falling inside you and astray. You love to watch the day, as it breaks, you decide to give it all away.

We are all searching, seeking the end, looking for structure, trying to mend. You want to be; no one is free.

About the song
Skyline is released in a bundle of "three old songs" - songs from the earlier stages of our development. Probably composed in early forms somewhere in the late 1990s, this version was recorded in the beginning of this millennium and has since then been mixed and re-mixed and modified. This version is mastered by Robert Halvarsson. Henric has composed and plays the guitar, Martin has written the lyrics and sings. Annasara Lundgren sings the choir parts.

Annasara Lundgren is a friend of Martin and Henric since many years ago. They originally met in their birth town Trollhättan through mutual friends. Annasara has studied violin at Malmö academy of music and is an active musician, collaborator and organizer of musical events. Most recently the chamber music club Krinolin

We also like to thank Robert Halvarsson who helped us finalize the mixing of the song with his sensitive mastering. 

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