Lyrics (EN)

Like fox and mink, once freed from their cages,
promises of new worlds glint from their backs
taking free steps as Sabaté did, through
riverbasins and pyrenees pines

From Lacandon jungle to Rojava
echoes the barking of Athens‘ streetdogs
and becomes a voice of the outcasts
who fight hand and paw alike

Just like on that november day
way back, when the whaling ships sank
glints on the water reflect
our desire to break off chains

don’t ask how to face our shallow, disposable existence,
how to summon the courage to fight your own decadence
there’s inspiration present everywhere around you
and what really matters is what you choose to do

you can bite the hand that feeds poison and shit,
be the spanner in the gears that grinds them to a halt
let the power abusers taste the anxiety they bring
and glints of freedom will shine from your eyes too


Before me stands a tower – a giant of concrete and steel
erected by slave labor, decorated by tusks of the extinct
all that’s left of the carcass of this world are dead flies
and a greedy maw nibbling on the corpses

“The way is shut.
It was made by those who are Dead.
And the Dead keep it.
The way is shut.”

so high on freedom we choose our flavor of decline
to ease the deafening alienation on a night out
collapse is pending for the artificial earth
already torn, sliced, packed and sold

“The way is shut.
It was made by those who are Dead.
And the Dead keep it.
Until time comes…
The way is shut.”


their collective conscience is a dead weight anyway
let prejudice decide how low can they go

I would love to see those idiots closing borders left and right
on the other side of fence, standing helpless
with nary a few scraps gathered before war broke loose
having gone through hell just to hear there’s no place left

Closing the gates before those in need
It’s perplexing how one can forget so easily
1968 apparently happened a long time ago
for our nation of former exiles

living in anxiety and fear, where to go and how?
Going through hell on both land and sea
just to wind up on a not-so-welcoming shore
if you’re not lucky, only waves will wash over your dreams
mass graves right on our doorsteps
people leaving their homes and former lives to get away from war
only to be subject to another mistreatment, rape, violation of their basic rights
just to die at the sea or be turned away by a bunch of stupid fucking beer-bellied rednecks…

you can’t choose your place of birth
but you can choose your place to live
so welcome


freedom only earns its name
when it carries the weight
of responsibility and consequences

effort is what counts, not the outcome
to make you feel you really matter
when the torch is soaked and ready
do you have what it takes to set it on fire?

freedom only earns its name
when it carries the weight
of responsibility and consequences

And when you stand at the foot of the hills,
the beacons have been lit, what say you?


hearts of the cities, sterilized, dehumanized
shrines to consumerism, houses becoming vacant
office cubicles, concrete cages, glass monsters
future sure looks shiny, now how do I get out?

hearts of the cities, sterilized, dehumanized (with skyrocketing rents)
shrines to consumerism, houses becoming vacant (while homeless people sleep outside)
office cubicles, concrete cages, glass monsters (let social centers take their place)
future sure looks shiny, now how do I get out? (and into a squat?)

lungs of the cities need their air
and streets need their voice to be heard
nothing’s impossible, even rocks can fly
so why couldn’t dead houses live again?

So mend the mouldered beams again
and let’s instill fear in those who let them rot


Timing is the key to success – shedding of skins
chafe on the masses – shedding of skins
let them choke on the remains to forget
crumbling structures get a new facade and everyone forgets
put on a good show and don’t worry, they’ll forget
slogans for the sake of slogans, redoing the past they already forgot

show the eyes what they need to see to forget
take the ears for a ride as well, to forget
bless the masses and rejoice in a feast to forget
for a few crumbs and fucked up lives they’ll forget

the higher the pedestal, the more people will it fool
the more it reminds you of your place,
your own worthlessness tailored for you,
your own place and a role to live out
might be lucky and earn the keys to your shackles
victory arches over the killing fields, whose victory again?
Monuments and pyramids – these are no burial chambers
they’re here for you to window-shop on awe and despair

History decorates only the winners, not the dead of both sides
for the record – they’re people just like you
unlike, however, the tycoons who’d sooner starve the poor
than feed them even the scraps from under the table

when they make disasters come from the right place at the right time,
you’ll never even want what little freedom they condescendingly gave you
all gets lost, traded in for make-believe safety

timing is the key
shedding of skins


clear cut patches along worn out paths, strewn by the ashes of those long gone,
by the dust swirled with footsteps of millions gone by with enchanting, intoxicating rhythm

a rhythm that never goes out
recurring, ceaseless

oh, repetition, you mother of all subservience! How many times will you so insist on a lie
that it becomes truth? Just like a drool stain on a nice tie, drycleaned away again and again

tell me how many times can you stick out like a splinter, before the host body rejects you?


whatever real life we are left with gets take for granted
and dreams keep on crumbling like old plaster
heads weighed down by ideas already taxed bodies
bodies stiffened, paralyzed by fear of change

fantasies of life get repossessed faster than a tree would fall
and prophecies give out more than a hint of slavery
but, same as free thought, they all get cut off by the next sermon
of supply and demand and profit margins on life, death and beyond

My time is mine and i’m not wasting it
I vote for freedom, since it doesn’t run for any office

won’t let myself be crushed by the masses
may they come as strong as they like
keeping an open mind
struggling, but honest

every barricade gets built on
anger and reason, love and rage
find the balance between ire and compassion
and face it all like a nunatak


PUNKS 2014
This creeping thing just won’t cease with its faustian bargains
with its ever-improving heavenly flavored shit
handshakes and ties, it looks  so trustworthy, right?
As East Bay Ray said, “those dumb punk kids’ll buy anything”

and all this time I thought that we were the alternative
that we didn’t give a shit about their so-called culture
that we’re breaking free of their shit and starting anew
well, instead it just looks that we’re cowering at their feet

allowing a bunch of yuppies to sell our own revolt back to us

please, just don’t insist that you have any kind of values
‚cause then someone might not feel “free” to sell out
not only themselves but our common integrity and independence,
reducing us to nothing more than headbanging fashion victims

i’d rather keep to the streets
than gladly profane myself and my ideals
in a fucking TV show, remember:
the medium IS the message
so do you think you chose the best one?

I still believe that a pair of boltcutters
might do good for some animals,
as opposed to vegans parading for a chocolate company
“fighting for rights” with the help of multinationals


the world’s falling asleep and night’s closing in, the fire still burns
illuminating the circle slowly forming around
circle of those whose rebellious minds are as one
one calm day at an unquiet sea

strewn with stars, the night sky shines
like the gazes of people rejecting their masks
joining hands and strengths to face the world
with fires in their hearts that consume the darkness

still set on the same path we’ve always walked
feeling breeze of hope setting us free
dawn is upon us and the circle disperses
ready to face the sun and the hope it brings


you cannot know what the next morning brings
and as far as i’m concerned, there’s no other way
my mind is a winding road and that’s good enough for me
wouldn’t be as exciting to know where it ends
have no need for power,
since without it I can see clearly
how it spoils the human nature,
slowly creeping into thoughts,
luring the meek and the crooked
into its clutches
I want to keep my own responsibility
guide my own actions
without any loopholes to askew my path


the treehouses have been abandoned for a while now
and the kites simply cannot loosen their ropes and fly
we keep replacing old treasure with new trash
leaving our past behind like memorabilia,
forgetting it and losing our edge
rust is chewing on our strings and there’s no one to dance
no one to listen to these songs either
our flame has already been put out
and we’d rather forget than think,
rather mock than understand
paths are getting covered in shrubs
and pale shadows are walking away
through the dusk
and the snow will come soon


it’s easy to agree or not to see the mechanics of society
as easy as to let the others decide about your future
the edge between private and public somehow degenerates
might as well identify with TV actors to feel special
how many times have you thought about escape
while they mortgaged the hell out of you
and you can’t afford to lose that job you hate anyway
there’s no time to live, blood and sweat turned into money
living by the payment schedule from the cradle to the grave
why would I live my life by these rules
I have a mind of my own, a mouth to speak,
eyes to see and ears to hear what you have to say

I love taking strolls in the dirt of underground gutters
down there I can feel the breeze of knowledge
and what’s life about if not the searching
sometimes I fall face down into mud, but often there’d be ideas far more pure than the pure ones have preached.

Don’t see why I should continue walking in someone else’s footsteps
or try to make a name for myself in the career structure freakshow
no need to listen to sunday morning church fairytales
it’s far better to read between the lines
no need for any god or country, quit nodding instead of questioning no use to linger in one place, just keep going forward everyone’s their own master an I don’t intend it any other way I just continue on my own with no signs of weakening


the big brother didn’t spawn on his own
his back is watched by his gigantic mother
a perfect relationship, a great harmony
without any arguments
every single day, flocks of sheep
give sacrifices on their altars
of no real value – just bits of lives
and when the time arises,
a scapegoat is chosen
for the crowd to tear apart
et voila, problem solved
a recurrent scheme from time immemorial
we feed our butchers and feel so glad
order must prevail, after all it lets us
build our own cage and a fence around it


light the bonfires and get busy ’round the totem
with witches and their brooms and the dancing leprechauns
pass the devils‘ booze to see them laughing
this isn’t hell, just a soirée of undesirables
among them we praise the ancient freedom
drums are rolling and wine is pouring
bandits, outcasts and rebels sparked this fire
and the chains of authority get shattered

come on, brothers, let’s party hard
all the banks and governments will burn down in our minds
come on, sisters,
dogmas and prejudices will be gone with the smoke
in the shadow of the state and darkness of the night
is where the most courageous dreams are born
as soon as the moon shows our dreams their way out
of the dark we will know our revenge is about


torn patches, dirty music
punk fanzines, DIY ethics
gigs, demos, critical thinking
abolishing borders, garbage sorting
tapes, records, lyrics and comments
stuff put out at own expenses
distros and fairs, anarchist leaflets
pogo, mosh, stagediving, volume at 11
police harassment, nazi attacks
spraying the walls and fighting back
late nights and sleepy mornings
trips far away, alone or with bandmates
vegan cuisine, squatting, home improvement
treasure to be found in the dumpsters and cans
a course of food, instead of bombs
zapatista coffee, a smell of harmony


can’t replant a wild poppy – can’t tame a wild soul
can’t pretend a small enclosure is as good as vast plains
won’t trade my love for money nor sell out my ideals
rather saddle up the wind, fly away and leave my cage to rust behind

as far as I can
or maybe a little further
’cause dumpsters are also filled
with abandoned dreams
as far as I can
as far as I can
as far as I can
move forward in my own right


they built a wall so we wouldn’t see
shot their weapons so we wouldn’t hear
the screams of pain, shame and humiliation
in the largest prison under the sun
built a wall so we wouldn’t see
what’s happening behind and now
they’ve opened fire to deafen our ears
so we wouldn’t hear
terrified families being run from their homes
and roaring engines of heavy machinery
burying all hopes and memories
so we wouldn’t see the desperation
checkpoint lines and recollections
about a hell on earth in people’s eyes
another day in occupied territories
land confiscations
and violent repopulating
bullying of natives
and marking them as terrorists

rain of bombs is pouring on this miserable land
soaking blood instead of water
fear is the only thing you can see
another day in life of Gaza strip


war crimes, death and torture
civil victims, gruesome injuries
soul scars, shattered skin
painful memories of the ones now lost
cities in ruins, families torn apart
the innocent always suffer the most
then neocolonialism kicks in
and someone’s power trip takes over
arms production gains from pain
still, no money brings you back from death
war is the sweetest business
and its revenue fuels more war cries

the best-dressed men do the dirtiest work
got their hands in everyone’s pies
greed is the sole motivation
and morals would keep the accounts in the red
this is just another song against arms race
a silly haiku that doesn’t change a thing
songs are played and people are killed


mass blindness and mind paralysis
fight complicated problems with simple solutions
self-appointed barroom race war militia
and the status quo architects can pat their own backs

concrete block brains and hearts of faint steel
big hands and clumsy words
frustration melted into slogans
that weigh like crosses to bear
from bad to worse
to nightmare scenarios
revisionism and clichés end up in crusades
and all those out of step end up in chains
and death camps