Rainmaker​/​Øjne split

by Øjne

supported by
  • Includes high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more. Paying supporters also get unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app.

    When you download our song you will get also the song by Rainmaker.

     name your price




released March 23, 2015

Recorded and Mixed by Stefano Garotta at Soundcheck Studio, Milan, Italy.
Mastered by Steve Roche at Permanent Hearing Damage Studio, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Vinyl release by: Dog Knights Productions [UK]

RAINMAKER: rainmakerband.bandcamp.com

Artwork by Christian Brix:




feeds for this album, this artist


Øjne Milano, Italy

We're from Milan, Italy. We play together since the end of 2011.

Contact us at: ojneband@gmail.com

Øjne are:
Jacopo C. (Vocals)
Axel M. (Bass)
Jacopo S. (Drums)
Alessandro M (Guitar)
Stefano G. (Best Friend)
... more

contact / help

Contact Øjne

Streaming and
Download help

Redeem code

Track Name: Rainmaker - Le Poids Des Ombres
Des secondes d'excitation dans une vie remplie de vide.
Le matin, on peine à se lever, le poids est immense,
les jambes fléchissent et les mains tremblent.
Des secondes d'exaltation dans une existence vide de sens.
On se réveille en apnée, à jouer avec la mort,
des cœurs engourdis, de la sueur sur le front.

On court la plupart de nos années
après d'éphémères moments de bonheur,
dans un souci d'échapper à l'ennui.
On s'approche alors doucement vers la décadence,
enchaînés aux murs de leurs bâtiments,
on deviendra les esclaves de leurs constructions.


Dans l'infime espoir de pouvoir un jour apercevoir au loin
le bout de la mer, juste pour quelques heures, prélassé,
pouvoir regarder de plus loin la mort qui s'étale devant mes yeux.
Mais ce que je veux vraiment, c'est regarder la lumière se tuer
et laisser place aux ombres, sombres esquisses portées sur des visages
pâles, des silhouettes difformes pliant sous les cataractes qui les écrasent par terre.

Coule ma vie, sur le sable imperméable.
Flotte l'espoir, sur le flot de mes palabres.
Glissent mes larmes, sur mon visage trop pâle.
Je crève la gueule ouverte !

And the rain will draw the outlines of their cells,
Of their shaky skeletons in unoccupied bodies,
Streaming tears revealing our faded graves,
In which we'd wish to fall asleep...

Je dois avouer qu'en temps sombres,
Sauter d'un pont n'est pas une option négligeable



Seconds of excitement in a life filled with emptiness
In the mornings we struggle to get up, the huge weight bends our legs and our hands tremble.
Seconds of exaltation in a meaningless existence,
We wake up holding our breath, dicing with death; benumbed hearts and sweat drips on our brows.

We spend most of our lives running after
Transitory moments of happiness
For the sake of escaping ennui.
Getting closer and closer to our decadence,
Chained to the walls of their buildings
We become the slaves of their constructions.


With the tiniest hope to someday be able to glimpse at the tip of the sea, just for a few hours, lounging; and from afar, be able to watch the death fanning out in front of my eyes.
But, what I want to, what I really want to; is to stare at the dying light and its fading shadows, the dark sketches covering the palest faces, the misshapen-silhouettes folding under the cataracts crushing them.

My life flows on the impermeable ground,
The hope floats on my palavers’ flow,
My tears slip on my pale countenance,
I perish, mouth wide-open.

And the rain will draw the outlines of their cells
Of their shaky skeletons in unoccupied bodies,
Streaming tears revealing our faded graves,
In which we’d wish to fall asleep.

I’ve got to admit that at dark times,
Jumping off a bridge is not a negligible option.
Track Name: Da Qualche Parte, Nel Momento Giusto
E se dovessi ricominciare da zero?
E se dovessi cancellare tutto?
Potrò ancora dire "ho ancora i miei amici,
i miei dischi, i biglietti del treno"?

Per quanto tempo potrò avere la mente piena
di ciminiere e vecchi palazzi
prima che il suo sguardo incendiario
faccia piazza pulita dei miei ricordi,
e quante luci dovrò accendere,
in quanti vetri specchiarmi
prima che anche questo posto
mi sia familiare?

Ma ci vuole più tempo
per nasconder le cose
che non vanno più bene
che per trovarne di nuove.

Ogni notte, spenta la luce,
non resta che il peso
del sarcasmo in cui annego,
come se tu e tutti gli altri
fossero solo dei nomi
scritti su un braccio.

E ogni mattina almeno per un attimo
quel peso è un ricordo lontano,
e se questo attimo diventasse un giorno,
se ogni giorno fosse lungo un anno
forse sarebbe ancora come quando
l'unica preoccupazione era non scivolare sul ghiaccio,
ricordarsi le chiavi e i vestiti pesanti.
Qualcosa che avrei dovuto scrivere
da qualche parte, nel momento giusto:
se la lancetta si fosse fermata
nel punto tra l'undici e il dodici
sarei stato contento così.

Ma il tempo è passato in fretta
e se dovessi cancellare tutto,
proverei quantomeno a tenere
questi biglietti sbiaditi dei treni,
tutti scaduti da anni.
Fingerei che valgono ancora,
che non prenderei una multa,
che al capolinea ci sia qualcuno
in piedi ad aspettarmi,
incurante del freddo e dei ritardi.



What if I had to start from scratch?
What if I had to erase everything?
Will I still be able to say "I still have my friends,
my records, these train tickets"?

For how long will I be able to keep my mind full
of chimneys and old buildings
before their incendiary eyes
will sweep away all of my memories,
and how many lights will I have to turn on,
in how many glasses will I have to see my reflection,
before this place
will become familiar too?

But it takes more
to hide things
that are no longer good
than finding new ones.

Every night, when the light is turned off,
nothing remains but the burden
of the sarcasm in which I drown,
as if you and everyone else
were all just names
written over an arm.

And every morning, even if just for a moment,
that burden is a distant memory,
and if this moment could become a day,
if every day was a year long,
maybe it would still be the same as when
the only concern was not to slip on the ice
and not forgetting the keys and the warm clothes.
Something I should have written
somewhere, at the right time:
if the clock had stopped
right between eleven and twelve
I would have been happy with it.

But time went fast
and if I had to erase everything
I would at least try and keep
these faded train tickets,
all expired years ago.
I'd pretend that they're still valid,
that I wouldn't get a fine,
that at the last stop there would be someone
waiting for me,
regardless of the cold and of the delays.