Etikett: Intended accidents

I must have money to stay alive
but I can’t work if I want to live
Confined to work at labour hours
concrete sun and stainless flowers

Killing time is a silly crime
my life escapes at too high speed
Live to learn and not to earn
I can’t afford the dreams I feed
… anyway

Disconnect your brain
Activate your body
Be a machine
Repeat your task
Two days a week
I’m alive
The other five
I’m working

Dopamine-balance unrestored
I want more money – I feel so bored
Happiness is hard to buy
but I try so hard, I try

Dullness feeds my useless needs
My crime I never will forgive
Mental health or massive wealth
The more I work the less I live

”Friendship can turn to love
but love can never be friendship again”
A friend of mine asked me
what I had to say about those old wise words
I told him that the words were stupid
but I’ve started to doubt

So tell me why, tell me why
Explain this cold hard silence
Why can’t we talk like before
Explain this wordless violence

There’s no way out
there’s no way back
There’s no way out of this
there’s no way out at all

Together I closed my eyes
so I didn’t discover the bad things about you
Afterwards I find them
and I may not any longer feel for you
We didn’t want it to come to this
but there’s no return

We struggle and fight, against the night
but this is what I’m minding
Friendship should be natural
this falsehood is to blinding

Jamsession med Alexander i ladugården kompletterades med samplingar från TV-serien Impossible mission.

Cracks in the human rights
leave tracks from some unfair fights,
where resistance are too weak.
Their chance to survive is hide and seek.
I thought that the good side never lose
but we were mashed by the government.
They stole our souls, our right to choose.
They made our minds broken and bent.

We were captured to change our minds.
We were tortured for our beliefs.

Pain is given to me.
The stains that no-one can see
cover my body for a day,
but in my soul they’ll always stay.
They love to hear my helpless cry.
They tie me up and beat me down
and in the water my old friends die.
With concrete round their feet they drown.

We were captured for our beliefs.
We were tortured into changing our minds.

Surroundings are black as night,
due to the lack of sight.
A carpet is winded around my head.
Freedom is just a dream.
I’ve lost my lust to scream-
The textiles in my mouth makes my voice dead.

Denna låt gjordes inom ramen för en studiecirkel vi hade. Ali spelade bas.

Die Welt draussen
ist ein Platz nur für die Reiche
Die Arme, unwürdige
sind Sklaven unter dem Kapital

Freiheit ist teuer
zu teuer für einen Arbeiter
Hier ist es anderes
Wir haben nähmlich die Freiheit in dir Pflicht

Geld ist wiederlich
und die Wurzel alles Übels
Gewalt ist schön
aber nichts für uns Kameraden

Wir lieben die Freiheit in der Pflicht
Wir streben nach der Freiheit in der Pflicht

Ist es nicht schön nicht zu denken?
Ja, es ist schön, nicht zu sein

Låten gjordes först som en ganska patetisk synthpoplåt som fick ett roligt, om än något omoget intro. Version 2 blev ett tapeloopexperiment.

Jag gråter över min ensamhet
Jag skriker ut min avsky för andra
Jag njuter av min egen framgång
orsakad av andras förfall

Jag lindar in mina fiender
i klibbig tankeväv
Dränker dem sedan omsorgsfullt
i det undermedvetnas flod

Jag tar en lustfylld egotripp
till självgodhetens högborg
Jag smeker min spegelbild, mitt vackra jag
Jag leker ensam i själviskhetens ekorrhjul

Armeringshjärna och stenhård vilja
har byggt detta luftslott
där dagdrömmars foster och offer
spelar biljard med mitt eget sinne

Retuscherade bilder av mig själv
hänger på väggarna till hjärnans tomrum
Jag sitter i den ljuva ensamheten
med lögnen som enda vän

Så vackert rödskimrande som i kväll
har jag aldrig sett dina ögon
Dina ögon är fyllda av kärlek –
kärlek till dig själv
Dina ögon är fyllda av hopp –
en förhoppning om världens undergång

Jag är fångad av mig själv
fjättrad av egots tvångströja
Jag går vilse i mörka tankegångar
och jag snubblar på livets tråd

…men säg varför är det bara jag som älskar mig?

Krigstrumman slog i Persiska viken. Lars skrev text och sjöng.

With his mind set on rockets
and strategic victories
– There’s no chance, he’ll raise his hands
to help build fire-sockets
for fighting enimies

Oil-sources in the Middle-East
fill money in my yearning purse
The price is freeing a savage beast
to take part in Arabia’s curse

When I heard my first crevade
a question struck me with the sound
What is it for this misplaced war?
Allied forces on crusade
Closer to peace with every round

Muslim troops on plunder-raid
The history returns and fades

Once palmtrees grew in this fertile soil
People getting tans on beaches
Home was near – nothing to fear
Now seabirds dwell in motor-oil
To horizon waste-land reaches

Uncle Sam is here – there’s nothing to fear
Allied forces on crusade
Closer to peace with every tear