1. |
Brains? I'm Fine.
00:53
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2000 years and we’re still talking about nonsense.
A decadent parade, advancing slowly, step by step.
Waiting for the daily bread, uncultivated minds made sterile by habits.
Twisted fingers, praying hands - do you really need it?
Just tell me what’s the use of burying your thoughts alive.
You’re nothing but marbles rolling into dark slots.
You say you’re happy with it – do you really mean it?
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2. |
Flee
00:56
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Choke / asphyxiated by this rusted cage.
Shake / cannot controlling this overwhelming rage.
Bite / intrusive fingers seeking us.
Scrape / our nails until they turn to claws.
And like the birds, we’ll fly in flocks.
One way out
Breathe then shout
And we will dip our feathers in our blood
to write our history down again
and then this time we will be there, the authors of our lives
and like the birds we’ll fly in flocks.
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3. |
Hands Off
00:44
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I’m fed sick to the back teeth of seeing her reddened wrists trembling.
One day the wolf that walks beside her will bite your throat
and let spill all the malice out of you.
Even the earth will reject you.
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4. |
Up To You
00:44
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No questions, no conscience, no doubts.
A mass of bewitched brains taking no position, nay.
Keeping a low profile, never to complain,
Leading hollow lives: this, day after day.
Nodding, nodding, nodding
That’s the way you act today.
Nodding, nodding, nodding
Nothing else you’re allowed to say.
No questions.
No conscience.
No doubts.
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5. |
Back Row
00:54
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Full of hatred for myself.
Dark curtains, they drop on my eyes and shut me away
and now I see no way out.
Everyone has got their chance, why have I not?
Am I the only one plodding?
Everyone has got their chance, why have I not?
Nothing else but the back rows.
Everyone has got their chance, why have I not?
Now it’s me in the back row.
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6. |
Medea
01:09
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Sailed the oceans of my conscience.
Overcome thousands monsters and trials
for a dream which ends up sinking
thrown away overboard.
Blood-shot eyes
and nerves go fucking wild
Plunge the knife into living flesh,
ripping the guts out
a dreadful shout will be heard till the torture ends.
Out they will stream, the blood, the brains.
Golden dragons lift me on air.
Nothing more now is blurred: the pink line
to me stretching its fair soft hand.
To the sun!
Wings not made of wax.
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7. |
Class-ify
00:43
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What’s wrong with you people here?
Why do you need to classify WHAT you are?
What about being yourselves?
Why do you want to stick a label to your foreheads?
What if I don’t want to read it?
Come off it – Just tell me WHO you are.
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8. |
Enough
01:08
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At this stage in life
I’m sick and tired of doing things I don’t want to do.
I’m full of everything but self-fulfilment.
I’m everything but a whole.
Thousand pieces I’ll always have to put together
but they just collide and won’t do otherwise.
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9. |
No Eyelids
01:12
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I’ll be watching you and I’m going to point you out the same way you’ve done to us all so far.
My eyes may bleed but I won’t keep an eye closed on what you do
and every time I catch you off-guard, you’ll be reminded
How grievous life can be
So many times you will have to wake up/lie down with no ambition / no solution
No eyelids, no rest, no excuses, no more truce
I won’t wear any eyelids.
I will give you no respite.
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10. |
Living Utopy
01:17
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On the starting line I am:
Wait, bang, run.
And so forth, it’s way too hard.
Sweating blood.
Slimy snakes tying my ankles
and I fall down on the ground
with a bleeding nose I struggle, then get up somehow.
And no matter if I feel the wind behind.
It’s going to blow upstream:
I get smacked in the face.
And no matter if I feel the wind behind.
It’s going to blow upstream:
Unlikely to succeed.
With a black eye and a broken back
on the run I keep going.
But the end turns to be the start
On a treadmill I run
Starting line.
Sweating blood.
Fall again.
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11. |
Detachment
00:37
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I am here and I am not.
I feel and I don’t.
There’s something I deeply want to do, somehow I cannot.
I’m trying hard to care a bit, but failing to do so.
I cannot help it.
I’m just like you.
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12. |
You Differ, I Differ
01:26
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You never go out of your den
because the others are just not like you.
Alien faces encircling/scaring you.
Two eyes, one mouth to spit you in the face how much you make us throw up.
Who lays down rules?
What is a standard?
Can’t you see we’re all in the same boat and this boat is helplessly sinking?
And no matter who you are because they ran out of lifeboats, you sad piece of shit.
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||||
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