> THE LYRICS / THE SHAPE OF PUNK TO COME

Worms of the senses 

I got a bone to pick with capitalism and a few to break. Grab us by the throat and shake the life away. Human life is not commodity, figures, statistics or make believe. And yeah I like eating excrement and not getting paid for it. Play the guilt, play the fear and play the anxiety x2. Seduced by the opportunity and robbed of hope. Human suffering is not commodity, figures, statistics or make believe. Marginalise away the joy and sell us boredom. And yeah I like working doing nothing and not making anything. Blame the poor, blame the uneducated and blame the sick x2.

Faculties of the scull 

I took the first bus out of Coca-Cola city cause it made me feel nauseous and shitty. I took the first bus out of Shell town cause they didn't want me hanging around. YEAH. YEAH. I took the first bus. Let's take the first bus out of here x8.

Liberation frequency 

It's coming through the air for all of us to hear. Could it be the sounds of liberation or just the image of detention? We want the airwaves back, we want the airwaves back. We don't just want airtime we want all the time all of the time. We want the airwaves back, we want the airwaves back. We want transmission for the people by the people. What frequency are you getting? Is it noise or sweet sweet music? On what frequency will liberation be? On what frequency will liberation be? It's coming through the air for all of us to hear. Could it be the sounds of liberation or just the image of detention? Control my flower, business and news all ready to devour. Who's in charge and what does he say? Is he playing the alternative or does it sound the same old way? We want the airwaves back...

The deadly rhythm 

This union that made us powerless is talking over our heads. Claiming prosperity in a downward spiral plan. Stuck by the deadly rhythm of the production line. This power that made us unionless is taking out of our hands. Cheapest labour at our expensive cost, auctioned our lives away. We consume our lives like we are thankful for what we are being forced into. Is it our duty to die for governments and for gods? Is it our privilege to slave for market and industry? Is it our right to follow laws set to scare and to oppress? Is it our gift to stay in line and will it take away the blame? We can no longer pay the price. We'll get organised. We will no longer believe that working for you will set us free.

Summer holidays vs. punk routine 

I'm tired of losing myself to some stupid childhood dream of what I could have been. Money proves the point and I'm stuck between summer holidays and punk routine. I shoot off a 100 things to remain more sorry than safe. You see, I only get this chance once and I just can't let it be. And I'm still certain that what motivates me is more rewarding than any piece of paper could be. Well adjusted and corrupt, all those icons that stole our teenage lust. A scenario of simplicity, a scenario of you and me x2. Rather be forgotten than remembered for giving in. We're all tired of dying - So sick of not trying. Scared that we might fail - We'll accomplish nothing. Not even failure.

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.

The refused party program 

This is the pulse - This is the sound. This is the beat of a new generation. This is the movement - This is the rhythm. This is the noise of revolution. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Refused party programme x3. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Protest song '68 

"To sing you must first open your mouth. You must have a pair of lungs and a little knowledge of music. It is not neccessary to have an accordion, or a guitar. The essential thing is that I want to sing. Then this is a song, I'm singing." -H. Miller
I breathe in and i create - rewoke the spirit '68. Fresh meaning to torn ideas - let's bring life to old clichés. Punch a hole in tradition - yeah, let's listen to the songs of discontent - the chords and the movement. It could all be so simple. We would all stand baffled by the precision and accuracy. Our jaws would hurt from dropping so hard, fast and unexpected. It would be the perfect metaphor. It would be the perfect song we'd be singing. I breathe out and i scream - rewoke Malatestas dream. Inspiration from the past - focus to the future at last. Fixed dogmas can't substitute - creative thought and action. We could be dangerous - art as a real threat. And all it is is words. Words said a million times before. And all it is is a song. A song sung a million times before. I breathe in and i create - rewoke the spirit '68. I breathe out and i scream - rewoke Malatestas dream.

Refused are fuckin' dead 

Beyond ability and control we could be weekend lovers. Steal a sentence and make a catch phrase parole for our revolution. Whispered all across the street about the new cool call. Or screamed at your face like a scabs payroll. Faces like angels, licking our fingertips. We don't have the patience to deal with it. With battered bodies and puckered lips. We don't have the patience to deal with it. A naive young secret for the new romantics. We express ourselves in loud and fashionable ways. Yeah, get down, get down, yeah. Can I get a witness? This I gotta see. Bring it in one more time for me x2. We don't have the patience x4.

The shape of punk to come 

Hey baby you never felt this good. Freedom through the stereo and you wish you could take a bite, do a dance and get lost on a crusade. Jump on this soul train with destination unknown. Hey baby never felt this free. A pair of new shoes and a punk rock show to see. Give acclamation to these blue ribbon babies. And check the calendar for the expiration date. We've all been bitten - we've all been underground. We've all been beaten, battered, bruised, told to get down. All dressed up with somewhere to go. I told you so. Adolescent beats with a new thing to see. Smashed guitars just like you've seen on TV. With burning speakers and flaming hair. We'll have a riot right here.

Tannhäuser/Derivé

So where do we go from here? Just about anywhere. Disorientated but alive. Boredom won't get me tonight. Let's bring this city to life - to light - tonight. There is no destination but with a goal in mind we can all be realistic and demand the impossible. Let's bring this city to life - to light - tonight.

The apollo program was a hoax 

Petrol bombs and barricades - Anything to have our say. Consequence of no choice at all - Empires rise and empires fall. It's time to flip some coins and it's time to turn some tables. Cause if we have the vision I know that we are able. Suck on my words for a while and choke in the truth of a million dead. There is no prestige in your title, we are after your head. The destruction of everything is the beginning of something new. Your new world order is on fire and soon you'll be too. Sabotage will set us free. Throw a rock into the machine.
 

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