. . .
|
|
SICK
it’s all SICK
I feel sick
I’ll be sick
then it’s fine
I’m conform
to your norm
with a bucket full of me
I’ll be free
finally
I will see
what you mean with your freedom
this world you call home
not alone
happy drone
won’t be sick of these cars
all these codes
and these bars
all these sickening scars
I’ll believe in the way
of the stripes and the superstars
I will fall in line
and obey
'cause the price is so small
almost nothing at all
if l’m just losing ME
then the ideals and truths
will follow naturally
happily I will settle for
your conformative apathy
if l could just get rid of this
unsettling
uncomfortable
unbendable
bucket of insight and honesty
this SICK SICK SICK bucket of reality
but you see: this sick will stick
'cause it’s ME
it’s ME
step into the dark age of treason
today the only voice of reason
would have to be the sound
of the soup of the season hitting ground
hitting ground...
SICK
feeling sickened by this fucking travesty
is just a sign of sanity
you’re not alone
and every time that you hurt
every cut
every scar and
every time you just hate
everything that you are
it is simply the instinct to flee
to escape from this mess
this continuous rape
of what’s true
and what’s real
so you gnaw at your paw
to get out of the trap
of the cage
of our time
all that rage
is your struggle to survive
they think you wanna die
when in truth you just strive
biting every hand
just to stay alive
but can you hear that sound
in you ear
growing louder and loader
the whole world around you
a pounding and grinding
that tells you that
you’re not alone
it’s the sound of
thousands and thousands
of vixen teeth
hitting BONE
step into the dark age of treason
today the only voice of reason
would have to be the sound
of the soup of the season
hitting ground...
SICK...
of these bars and these cars
I feel sick
you are making me sick
so sick
you are making me sick
it's all sick
we're all sick
you are making me sick
soup of the season
hitting ground
. . .
|
|
INTRODUCING STAR
we saw you every day
with your hands on your crotch and so much to say
you went from bouncing toy cars with golden motors
to neon striped BMWs and a court of drugged up nodders and quoters
namefucking fame on all photos
all cheered on and applauded by even richer promoters
now when you’re a star
when you’ve reached this far
and the world really knows who you are
(really?)
you show off your six black Mercedeses and drink Cristal like they all do
and the poor outside your gates appall you
and the only hood you see is the one on your car
do you even have a clue as to who you are?
bro I don’t think so
I mean Mercedes
man what a stiff old dull fart’s republican shit car
sick of hearing you preach to the poor like before
only now you’re a coward
only letting TV through your door
getting older
take a bow and just go
the rage on the stage getting colder like your hits on the chart
but then the talk shows can still get you hard
doin’ rhymes on your prime time fistfights and spittin’ grime in the limelight like a star gets a chip off your shoulder
a boulder that rolls and rolls over and over and over
there’s nothing like a broken childhood
there’s nothing like a broken home
there’s nothing like a tale from your hood
there’s nothing like a record of restriction orders
outspoken borderline disorders
a violent long way to the top
the longer that you fought yourself up
the longer the spitfall
THUS QUOTE THE CRAVING
you’re so fucking lost that with all of the costs
you still don’t see that in reality
the one thing you fail to buy yourself is a personality
you’re trapped in a mould of the rap
you sell but you’re sold
I mean
can’t believe that you’re paying all that gold
to some home decorator that hands you buckets of conformity
seems you’re losing your way together with your policy man
ending up with a new definition of poverty
it’s a joke
like those you make in every video
to reach the kids with the dough
with every copied “aha yo” and worn out “bro”
guess what we need is yet another clown
who can feed our breed
with another look and hooker hook
now when “bitch” is mundane you take the lead with “wassup ho”
and let TV blur your mouth once more
just what we need in every store
thus quote the craving: “forever more!”
you’re so right
a shiny knight on a white steed
truly a hero
yeah right
fuck you
fuck you right down to the core
you know what?
you’re just another Parental Advisory bore
there’s nothing like a broken childhood
there’s nothing like a broken home
there’s nothing like a tale from your hood
there’s nothing like a record of restriction orders
outspoken borderline disorders
a violent long way to the top
the longer that you fought yourself up
the longer the spitfall...
when you’re rappin’ your shit y’all
REDEFINING VOMATORIUM
yo
I guess when you’re that loaded
you’d better empty the barrel
every chance you get
is that so?
empty your word and pose magazine
in magazine after magazine
let every shot go let the shit flow
‘cause the show must go on and on and on
you’re it bro
but it’s sad to know
when your star implodes
all that shit hits the fans
just like your words back when you shone
but it’s getting late in the game
trapped in repeating your name
again and again
like you’re scared we’ll forget it
can’t blame you
apart from that name you’re all embarrassingly the same
it’s so lame - can’t you get it?
and perhaps you are right in that fear
more sane than you appear
in your self deploring cock obsessive
koks delirium
but I say
to me you just redefine
the old romans’ vomatorium
there’s nothing like a broken childhood
there’s nothing like a broken home
there’s nothing like a tale from your hood
there’s nothing like a record of restriction orders
outspoken borderline disorders
a violent long way to the top
the longer that you
claim that you have fought yourself up
the longer the spitfall...
MAN OF THE MASSES
you’re a man of the masses
took all of the classes
their asses are yours
all those bores who are paying the bills
for your palace uphills
and your pills that will help you proceed
in your greed
you are free of the chains that you need on your fans
to adore you
to kneel down before you
more precious to you than your brains and your hands
they live for you
if you could just see this old tree
this patriarchic hierarchy
up where you want to be
you need miles of roots to lick your boots
don’t you see?
you’re a man of the masses
you need all those asses
their fate to relate to the one that you were
do you know who you were?
who you are?
not the one in your words that they buy
they concur you conquer
though a natural flunker
and you need them to stay not to fly
to obey like the dogs that they are
the cogs under the hood of your Mercedes car
they will pay for your trip to the stiff upper lip
you’re a man of the masses
your trip is a journey through classes
you are high
they are low
and you need it to be so
see, without them you’d be nothing more than before
and you know that’s not much
it is just or unjust such:
just a sad little man with his hand on his crotch
there’s nothing like a broken childhood
there’s nothing like a broken home
there’s nothing like a tale from your hood
there’s nothing like a record of restriction orders
outspoken borderline disorders
a violent long way to the top
the longer that you fought yourself up
the longer the spitfall...
the longer the spit falls...
when you’re rappin’ your shit y’all
YO
you’re just another Parental Advisory sticker surfing beach boy
yo
. . .
|
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The only cribs that we should care for
are the ones that we are here for
the ones belonging to our children
that do what we do
scar from our wounds
the only cribs that make a difference
where the magic really happens
don’t come with a Mercedes Benz
or a wide screen showing nothing
showing nothing...
I’m sick of home control devices
sick of sickening home designers
sick of drugs and gold and strip poles
sick of homies
sick of poses
despite the nodding staff that serves you
despite your name on clothes and perfume
despite the way the press observes you
you’re just people...
successful people
dressed up people
smiling people
famous people
red carpet people
wealthy people
important people
but still just people
so fuck the million dollar kitchen
fuck the Al Pacino posters
fuck the drugs the gold the strip poles
fuck the homies
fuck the poses
fuck the walls they build around them
fuck the bedroom magic nonsense
I don’t want to hear their voices
as long as they vote with their wallets
fuck the silly “throw you out” joke
fuck the framed cigar DeNiro smoked
fuck their lack of originality
and personality
fuck this travesty
fuck this new norm
fuck conformity
fuck their Kristal
fuck their sordity
fuck the way they fuck equality
fuck their freebie gear
fuck the ones they wear
you’re just people...
successful people
dressed up people
smiling people
famous people
red carpet people
wealthy people
important people
but still just people
messed up people
shallow people
stupid people
plastic people
meta people
theta people
therapyople
Entropiople
oh, fuck the ones they wear
I'm cribcaged
cribcaged
the only cribs that we should care for
are the ones that we are here for
the ones belonging to our children
that do what we do
scar from our wounds
. . .
|
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You brought us the a-bomb
in so many ways
endorsed by God and The Book
so god loves a war monger?
hey Mr. Blix: forget Iraq and the time it took
‘cause I know just where to look
"could we have a vote please?"
...
they came with a song - America
they wouldn’t stay long - America
we are America
god bless America
god bless America and Capitol Hill
‘cause no one else will
so now you are scared
the arabs will kill for their god
like you do for yours?
protect your obesity with your life man
hey - Angry God or Diet Coke?
who cares it’s all a joke
"heil homo pecuniae"
...
saving us yet another time
earning a buck on every dime
sick of America
sick of America
sick of America and Capitol Hill
moving in for the next kill
did you say "I love you"?
a simpler democracy
where every flaw and failure is called a “Right”
a new form of freedom
based on your income
your color, creed
and your choice of gun
but it provides great fun
"Dr. Phil or Operah?"
"Letterman or Leno?"
"Idol or Big Brother?"
[we’ll be back after this short break]
it could have been good America
it could have been great America
land of the brave and free
welcoming you and me
but this Brave New World is not as new anymore
each day a new store
each year a new war
while chosen whites rule the poor
in America
oh America
don’t you walk out on me
just wait a second now
please hear me out
oh
I’ll do my best to love you
oh yes I will
I know you’re out there
c'mon
raise your voices
don’t let them ruin your reputation
don’t let them wreck your constitution
not out of fear
not out of greed
but you had a good run America
your day in the sun America
hello British Empire
hello Roman Empire
hello Soviet
there is a new kid in town
joining the gone down
finding what you found
treading your worn
worn down ground
rise to your former glory
be brave and warm
oh America
if I say I love you
if I say I love you
if I say I love you
dare you love me too?
. . .
|
|
TONIGHT I’LL FALL
tonight I’ll fall
looking for something
wonderful yet casual
extraordinarily temporal
and there you are
let’s go
you hooked me
on the dance floor
so here I am
back for more
you seem experienced
just an inch too keen
on getting exposed
having your face in every magazine
you’re far from being unique
but you still look pristine
mundanely exotic
like the french cuisine
my Disco Queen - let’s disco...
A CHEAP SELLOUT DRUG
you’re a cheap sellout drug
on everyone’s lips
covered every day
done every way
a whole world at your hips
a bar to fit
the beats you take
another hit
and you will break
undressed in front of me
all glistening ebony
you’re still so young
but I will show you vintage 33
I lay you on your back
inviting curves of black
making little noises
as my needle finds your track
my Disco Queen - let’s disco
disco Queen - let’s disco...
A TIGHTER GROOVE
you leave me wanting more
panting on all four
I know there’s more to pluck
and so I go for the encore
I am turning you around
to play your other side
a tighter groove
I want it
but I tremble slip and slide
baby you’re just what I need
you purr when I make you bleed
I pump you till you cry - feel so alive
I crank you up and switch to 45
a screaming climax chord
I give you all I’ve stored
a moment’s silence and you’re filled up
yet emptier than before
oh - that subtle little sound
as I am pulling out
a finished dish upon my plate
is what it’s all about
a square round of greed
you surrendered to the rhythm
spinning around your hole
disco made you famous
but tonight you tasted soul
I pumped you till you cried - felt so alive
I cranked you up and switched to 45
you are just begging for more
but I unlock the door
(tonight I’ll fall...)
you’re old news now and so
I leave you trembling on the floor...
MY DISCO QUEEN
my Disco Queen...
my Disco Queen
let’s disco...
. . .
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|
Someone sells us Toys in a cheap cartoon
someone sells us Cars in the latest Bond
that’s coming soon
someone sells us Trends through a sitcom star
someone sells Herself in a docu-soap
that goes too far
Life on sale
can someone please just tell me what happened?
I mean, first we pay for fastfood that will make us all fat and tired
so then we pay for elevators
so we won’t have to climb the three stairs up to our aparents
then we buy freakin’ StairMaster machines
so we can burn away while watching someone make real food on TV
now, if that doesn’t make us winners I don’t know what will
I bet we would hang ourselves, if the world would just cut us the slack
and now you think maybe you should see a shrink
help you feel alive again - yeah, that’s a plan
just tell us who to pay
someone sells us Man in a White House speech
then Woman tightly pressed
between two bouncing breasts on a Baywatch beach
someone sells us Us everywhere I turn
then introducing Them
to earn stock points on our concern
all for sale
it’s all for sale...
welcome down to planet Earth
please don’t ask us what it’s worth
you will notice that the world you found
is slightly tattered and worn down
someone sold us every stain
now if you wish to complain
there’s an open spot at 6 pm
that’s when Caucasia is listening
if you’re tearing down my world
please just try to do it gently...
there is love inside
for a dream that has to die
see, it’s really all about time and choice:
the fastfood saves us enough time to squeeze lunch in exactly when we want it
the elevators save us just a little more
and the StairMaster lets us choose exactly when to walk the stairs
time is so important these days
it’s becoming a fucking disease
and I guess in a way it is
since it is bound to kill us all in the end
now with all the time and money we stash away on others’ expense
I can only assume that the tickets to hell are really expensive
and for some reason
it’s important to be first in line
someone sells us God in 2-for-1 with Shame
someone sells us War
and the marketing looks just the same
someone sells us Fear on TV each day
a shape for every taste
if the flavor’s right we gladly pay
all on sale
we’re all on sale...
welcome to the only Earth
please enjoy your only birth
you will learn to take more than you give
buying scars we must live with
someone sold us every scar
they somehow made us what we are
we all want that spot at 6 pm
but no one is really listening
no
not anymore
we’re all too busy
buying Sex
buying War
oh
buying Self Confidence
Security
Insurance Plans
just buying More & More
as you’re tearing down my world
please just try to do it gently...
(there’s still love inside for the dream that had to die)
as you’re tearing down our world..
. . .
|
|
We’ll cut you down to size
there is a woman burning at the center square
raven black eyes and long let out hair
screaming
while cloaked vultures holier-than-thou circle and glare
at sweat drops on pale skin like satin
and as the raging flames work her into cinder
said in their defence:
stupidity and ignorance
prejudice and intolerance
all sound so much wiser when dressed up
in Latin
life will never be the same
I have a bigger world since I found God
truth will never be the same
I’m in a righter mind since I found God
I found...
Mrs Modern Mother Mary
all pale and weary
from raising her overweight kids in the outskirts of Suburbia
on a nice christian gender based salary
and a church she can merely attend
and there on the flip-side of Caucasia we see
Miss Modern Mary Magdalene
gone Deep Throat
on international cabel TV
so you keep talking about progress and equality
but to me
the crusade is still on my friend
silly me who always thought
life was for the living
and giving in to lust
was all to give and to be given
life will never be the same
I have a better view since I found God
guilt will never be the same
I’m on a higher ground since I found God
I found God...
life will never be the same
I have a better view now
there’s always someone else to blame
I’m on the winning team now
death will never be the same
I’m in the faster lane now
no more am I the one to blame
I have a juster cause now
love will never be the same
lust will never be the same
shame will never be the same
I will never be the same
and
you will never be the same
. . .
|
|
Silence
cold skin
black mind
blue light
broken
shut down
knuckles
all white
babel
cold fact
core mine
black gold
failure
lockdown
gun hands
all sold
we’re waiting
so
close your eyes
relax and take a deep breath now
believe the lies
when you wake up you’ll be
democratized
violence
cold pin
blood crust
blinded
damp sheets
needles
stale smiles
sick bed
guiltknife
scarsoil
sinstain
killchrome
footbare
gone wrong
blue lights
bring me
home
we’re waiting
so
close your eyes
relax and take a deep breath now
believe the lies
when you wake up
we’ll all seem nice
so close your eyes
just take another deep breath now
and fantasize
pretend the world we’re forming
is a paradise
why can’t I close my eyes
why can’t I just be hypnotized
industrialized and privatized
all mesmerized
‘cause I can see
and what I see around me
makes me paralyzed
yes I can see
and what I see is not worthy a democracy
it’s uncivilized
so please close my eyes
I don’t want to see
this undemocratic
semi-automatic
mediocracy and hypocracy
pretending we’re free
under plastic flags waving dependency
for this idiocracy
close my eyes...
. . .
|
|
I long for the summer
I long for the sun
gently touching my face
I’ll open my eyes
let it burn every splinter
unleash desert storms
on its way to my heart
and I had this coming
every day of my life
this is where I stop fighting
eyes open wide
you took this blade
and cut a wreck
and in one blow
laid bare your neck
where did we go wrong?
I once had blue eyes
hungry and wise
now they are black from this
dark age of lies
we’re all privatized
industrialized
we capitalize on the beams in our
eyes
it’s all in the eyes
eyes - tearing with sorrow
burning with anger and passion and lust
the swift wind of thought
of wildness and laughter
the soil of defiance
the firm ground of trust
(we had this coming - every day of our lives)
(we should start fighting for eyes open wide)
but I am put here
in this world gone insane
where everything’s for sale
from nature, over stars down to DNA
then I can gladly say
that I’d be the first to break that norm
any day
any way
and the last to join the ranks
to hunt down the Daily Threat
or any other brand of prey
you took this blade
and cut a wreck
and in one blow
laid bare your neck
where did we go wrong?
we once had blue eyes
probing the skies
now they are blackened
from this modern life
all privatized
industrialized
a failure
offensive and sore to the eye
one small step for man
maybe this time I’ll fly
and if I hit the ground
it’s the way we all die
we are wrecks of the cut
soups of the season
with dollar sign scars
from this dark age of treason
we all know how to cry
then we learn how to smile
how to smile
we’re all telling the truth
tell us the truth!
then we learn how to lie
and oh, how we lie
how we
lie
when you bow your heads tomorrow
at the world we build today
I want you to remember
that I stood my ground
and said no
(say no)
I said no...
say no!
. . .
|
|
In just a year another storm will come
to wash away an inch more blood
its lack of hatred, politics or creed
left us blind
open wide
our gun hands tied
for this old world has seen the worst of us
its love worn thinner by the day
and every ounce of havoc
that we wreaked upon it
got the best of us
oh, and the rest is for us
let it rain...
enter rain...
exit pain
in seven years ago I’ll see a man
a moment stretched out over years
his eyes just flicker
and then something’s changed
an empty cage
a crimson bud
sprung out in mud
let it rain
in just ten minutes I will see a child
buying milk all dressed in rags
and without thinking he will
cover up his naked hand
to the cold
oh, and that gives me hope
let it rain...
enter rain...
exit pain
STANDING
And the rain will wash us to the bone
leaving thousands in its trail
cleansing all the flesh wounds
of our time
of every crime
of every pound of dust and grime
in two seconds I will hit the ground
a moment stretched out over years
and my eyes will flicker
and then something has changed
an empty cage
a crimson bud
a street of blood
a city rose sprung out to greet the rain
you’ll never remember my name
but I will love you just the same
you’ll never remember my name
but I love you just the same
just the same
just the same
you’ll never remember my name
but I love you just the same
just the same
FALLING
enter rain...
(a city rose)
(a street of blood)
in two seconds I will hit the ground...
. . .
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