> THE LYRICS / THE NEW NOISE THEOLOGY EP

New noise 

Can I scream? It's here for us to admire if we can afford the beauty of it. If we can afford the luxury of turning our heads. If we can adjust that $1000 smile and behold the creation of man. Great words won't cover ugly actions and good frames won't save bad paintings. We lack the motion to move to the new beat. When the day is over the doors are locked on us. Cause money buys the access and we can't pay the cost. And how can we expect anyone to listen if we are using the same old voice? We need new noise , new art for the real people. We lack the motion to move to the new beat. We dance to all the wrong songs and we enjoy all the wrong moves. We're not leading. Yeah. The new beat x10000.

Blind-date

So you want to go out with me, watch me get on my knees and bleed? I stole this scrapbook from you but it doesn't matter cause you stole it to. Sugarcoated kisses from my lips gives the exitement of a stolen bliss.To create, to love and fight, we won't sleep at all tonight. So you wanna watch me scream, dance with me and watch me bleed? Steal the sound and love it too, then baby I'll howl for you. Confused and exhausted but with a healthy fix so let's drink some potion and get it over with. They're all screaming about the rock n roll but I would say that it's getting old. It belongs in the museum where it's rotten soul been sold. Explosive and crude, out of line and out of tune. Somehow knowing that we'll get the message to you. Hang on as the rebirth of cool takes place, you'll know the time and we'll set the pace. Shake it around, move across town and bring their idols down.

Poetry written in gasoline 

Scrap the extras cut out the spareparts let's keep our eyes wide open. Fuck the idol reject the star let's feed ourselves some struction. Convention blackmails creativity this lack of challange kills me. Manipulate the obvious. Cowards bought by traditionalist manners. Scream at the herd that are heard the most without substance and with useless banners. The rhymes of revolution. Poetry written in gasoline. Your art is worth nothing.
 

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