GRIEFWALKER – No longer held down, no longer kept confined. By the old dreams long gone by, the old ways never tried. Walk with me, and hold my hand until the end. Blessed be the meek. Blessed be the ones who seek solace wherever they may find it. Lord knows we all keep trying. Words and images provide the smallest comforts sometimes. Lift the spirit and stem the wound, once more on repeat. We believe in life and death, balance and reflection. Endings we try to comprehend and fight against. Break these chains and lift me up. For the clouds have gathered and the jurors have filled their cups.
BRITTLE – Some say that my outlook is as bleak as the sky on any November day. I don’t hear what they say, cause I’ve got dreams to chase. Debts to fulfill, stakes to claim. Sometimes at night I feel no pain. The fire in our hearts has turned into a mere flicker. We burned the page which was written in our darkest days. Filled with our deepest rage. To some it always feels like a golden age or desperate times. With nameless people screaming desperate rhymes. Learn to read between the lines. So say your piece, grit your teeth. Let them all bow as you find your feet.
ANCHORS – Awaiting turns, loosening threads. For all the heroes from the past we can’t forget. Sway slow and deep. Inverted shades. Always the same for all the masses point the blame. So-called leaders trap us in sweetened dreams and gleefully spin a web of dense deceit. Disappointed people make for angry mob mentality. Scapegoats in cages have taken the blame for ages. Blistering confronting accusations. Low and behold, the river flows and drags us all into inevitable throes. The words that we all kept, close to our hearts and chests. Like amulets. We look for answers in different directions. We hope to find anchors in anthems.
STERNSCHANZE – Stars shine bright tonight, so do the Schulterblatt pavement lights. Let’s go out and kill our dreams and rebuild them in the morning. New banners up on the Rote Flora, down past the Flora Park. Sankt Pauli fans out in full force today. It is probably an exhibition game. Maybe tonight the rain will drive away this heat. And the Menschenzoo will be. I guess we’re shit out of luck, but don’t worry cause the Reeperbahn is still fucked. The gamblers and the drunks talk loud. The girls wear their colors oh so proud. Durch die dunkle straβen irrt der Geist von der Hoffnung die verloren scheint. Von einer Stadt die tapfer kämpft, doch die Reeperbahn ist immer noch ein hässliches Monument.
SCOURGE – Uproar! Jackboots are marching again. This digital age has brought digital hate. Is this a dream or is this reality? We spend the better part of last year looking for answers, why the rest of the country was going off the deep end. Like a ship set adrift without any anchors. Distorted narratives wrapped up in easy edible answers. So you think you’re out there to defend your land. Your culture is under duress. Mabuses and henchmen, they are everywhere, half the world seems like it’s possessed. You keep insisting that their misled fears are honest and valid. Yet everyone else can see the die has been cast. Racism only works wholesale directed downwards. Old tactics wholly adopted by the new cowards.
COUNT TO TEN – Even the mirror lies when tested. For those who can’t stand a close hard look, piercing eyes make waves. It must be safe being as pure as this. Holding out for something seems to be the only thing I’m good at (lately). I thought I saw you glancing over, made me draw in some October air. I felt alone and cursed this year. Doesn’t seem to be another way to win. I’ve gotta hold firm to what we believed in. Try to count to ten before you leap into the fray. Episodes that might come back to haunt you someday. No action is without its rewards. Hearts lay fallow, I feel no remorse. But know that these things take time, and tears and blood and a whole lot of guts. So make it last. I’ve gotta ask you what you think there is for us to be, to see, to feel and hear, to live through. Can you tell me? Bite off the hand and give it back. Bite it off. I believe what you believe in.
RERUN – Regale us all about the time, you and mom stole from the five and dime. Tell me, do you miss it sometimes? Stories read like something from a paperback. High octane, adrenaline. Vibrant colors, nothing steeped in gray. The fire’s almost out, let’s piss on the ashes. We’re just trying the same thing. Breaking out not giving in. Hoping that we will not be remembered for nothing. The fire’s almost out, let’s piss on the ashes. We’ve got our life back now. Ready? Let’s go!
MIDNIGHT IN THE DESERT – Most times these days make for tedious nights. Dazed and bored I wait for you to turn out the light. I can’t stand the sadness that comes messing with my head. Might be an illness, have to take my pills instead. I try to find comfort in your presence and the solitary moments of explosive happiness. So yeah, my struggle’s different, less overt. Many nights the wind gets cold being in the desert. Try anything to find a way out of here. The desert is no place to be alone. Try anything to get away.
LEAP OF FAITH – Warning signs stood out and shouted: heed this warning as you enter here. The shadows outside spelled disaster. Yet we don’t want to live in fear. Lights out, round one. Straight right attack. Hold tight, we’ll move mountains. They will feel our impact. Straight forward into the fire. Outward scars don’t hurt no more. I want to feel strong and inspired. Hearts alight and not afraid no more. Lights out, round two. Left hook attack. Hold tight, we’ll move mountains. They will feel our impact. Lights out, round three. Straight uppercut. Hold tight, they will feel our impact.
CAUTERIZE – As the words rained down on the clowns, your toughness offset by the coloring lines. The bodies piled up, the stench benign, you made off with the prize. Soft spoken, yet the bullets hit hard. I’ve got a sinking feeling that this day will come again and again. The dream will burn and return. I’ll take your names and faces, scribble them down my arm. Lay in hiding, soothing hatred, these eyes have seen a million gazes. All you see are enemies. I’m wide awake, my mind is clear. I won’t give this another year. Let the dead of now be the villains of yesteryear. For better or not the question sticking in your mind this time. Pig pen scars soothed with loud guitars, the gray colors these crimes of mine. So ease up on the self-hate kid. Save your strength and keep it warm. Train the heart and hands for now, through strength you’ll make it through somehow. Pedestals loom overhead. Clay feet spies, cauterize.
PLOUGHSHARES – Swords instead of ploughshares. Please sir, can we cut a deal? My masters have abandoned me. I have nothing else to plead. Will work for food and destruction of your precious and unjust status quo.
Time and energy most of us cannot afford, decorum just went overboard. They’ve used up all our karma points, but they’re not the one looking down the barrel of a gun. Those that are worse off count in the millions. Darkness will not be dispelled by just one act of kindness, but us finding common ground for peace between me and you.
THE BLEACHERS – It was an unnerving view. No one else could have appreciated it like I do. But then again, few can. As I watched and wondered if I could relate this to anything seen before. I came up empty. Nothing was quite like it. Maybe I’m to blame, did I come up short? Did I really fuck up? Or so they tell me. Hasn’t anyone told you that all of this is just a mirage? You think these people and you answer to the same external reality? Think again, these stories we make ourselves, not them, not your parents, not the authorities, just you. And only you. Maybe this’ll fall on deaf ears but it’s all I got. I know it isn’t much, but its mine.
(SHE’S GIVING ME THE) CREEPS – South city street lights, carried heavy foresights. Venus like glow on the edge of her eyes. Soft spoken words and eerie quiet. Somewhere in her eyes I saw a riot. She saw nothing but scars and wounds
I tried to show her some uneasy truths. She’s giving me the creeps. She carries herself fairly well. She’s giving me the creeps. No exit signs. Or escape routes. I couldn’t hide the truth right now. Final call, this one’s for real. You’d better show me how this feels.
TO THE TRENCHES – Come out one last time, just me and you. Take the rough with the smooth. Wrongs will be made right. Songs will be sung. We will come out stronger. Scatter the ashes across the battlefield, darling I don’t know if you’ve seen the numbers. But I think this one might do us in. This one will burn the bridges, fade out colors, murky waters almost never birth wonders. But we tried to find the light within. The weapons drawn, the words grown quiet like a fading symphony the final notes die out. And so we take to the trenches. The blood and guts get spilled and cut. This might be the war to end all wars. We’ll attack and shore up our defenses. With busted knees and rom-com fantasies she ran me over and my heart exploded. No forgiveness, no remorse. You can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs. The smell of death was our crescendo. Our hatred of each other felt almost tender.
INVINCIBLE SUMMER – No more days colored black and blue. Unlike you I like to hang out with ghouls. Across the parks and alleyways. Blood and thunder burst into flames. Raise my arms to a summer sky, today I’ll just do whatever I feel like. Whatever I feel like…
BATTERING RAM – Ever forward, no side steps made. Forget all responsibilities. No left or right but straight ahead. Collateral damage be damned. You’s not you, it’s gonna be ok. Leave all your doubts behind. Force is a valuable tool sometimes. Sever the ties that bind. Battering ram! Battering ram! No half-assed word was spent. Battering ram! Battering ram! Maybe this time we’ll make a dent!