accession of a new monarch our king, mighty conqueror, majestic face of prosperous lands, our father, our hero, has joined the ancestors. our brave and luminous leader was called to god too soon, too suddenly. surely a plague will strike this land. believe me, there are no words to express this great loss. there is no comfort to gain, there's only grief. the king is dead! he cried like a crocodile. he broke his promises. he was a cheap double-crosser, a poor excuse for a so-called man. maybe he used some witch's craft to put us in his spell. maybe his powers of persuasion poisoned every well. the king is dead! the king is dead! long live the king! the king is dead! long live the dead! aftermath some life remains in protein stains. no hearts or brains, just a core in the middle, with satellites revolving around. mother is proud, overjoyed by the trivial. she knows what's best for everything. she's got insight - a reversed second memory. and in cores my future lies, in flesh bound piles. i guess i'm fucked in the middle. volcano - erupting evening sky. volcano - deconstructing, tearing down. volcano - disintegration heals. volcano - baptising fire beams. volcano, the smoke gets into your eyes. volcano, but no smoke without a fire... volcano, i'm proud of making you cry. volcano... and i detest that pride. volcano... volcano, the smoke gets into your eyes. volcano, but no smoke without a fire... volcano, i'm proud of making you cry. volcano... and i detest that pride. some life remains in protein stains. no hearts or brains, just a core in the middle, with satellites revolving around. mother is proud, overjoyed by the trivial. she knows what is best for us: she's clairvoyant - her reversed second memory. and in cores my future lies, in flesh bound piles: i'm fucked in the middle. the astronaut's lullaby rocketship, rock me to sleep. and ship me into the deep, regardless space - where the mothership awaits. elevate me to the most peaceful of states. i am tired. drain me in cosmic cotton candy. wrap yourself around me. don't let the bed bugs in. invite me, your womb's a living bed, delightful. surrounded by the shed alloy of blood, our mutual life flood. the safest harbour found in the rocketship of gods. i am tired. drain me in cosmic cotton candy. wrap yourself around me. don't let the bed bugs in. weightlessness regained... our mother watches over every little child. and we won't need to cling onto her. we are so tied. (and i'm so tired.) i am tired. drain me in cosmic cotton candy. wrap yourself around me. don't let the bed bugs in. i am tired, i'm so. i am so tired, i am. weightlessness regained... at the waterhole i'm sneaking with caution, proceeding very slowly. watching on tenterhooks, recording every odour. i might catch my death in a thoughtless moment. more haste less speed seems to fit for me. animal clientele; some take prey, some fear the female predator. i'm living according to a simple definition: body functions in a suitable condition. theory meets practice in a head-to-head collision. i'm dead, at least in the abstract. animal clientele; some take prey, some fear the female predator. animal clientele; some digest and some watch anxiously their backs. i'm living according to a simple definition: body functions in a suitable condition. theory meets practice in a head-to-head collision. wildlife is for granted. everyone depends on their dear self. wildlife is descended, because it runs in the family. animal clientele, which runs in the family. some take prey, some fear the female predator. animal clientele, which runs in the family. some digest and some watch anxiously their backs. it runs in the family... beach banquet the crucial circumstances: a ship, one loaded with strangers without a face. one million chances to one. yes, it's drifting ashore. sails torn in anguish, wrecking mother of ships: body's corroded, corrupt, leaky like a pair of lips. the awakening: eyes measure the ground, eyes use infrared. eyes eat at sight, eyes endure the wait. the hills have evil eyes, guard dogs that eat at sight, hidden in grains of sand, anticipating the poor. accelerating jaws, barbecue 'til the morning comes, and dead again by dawn. the song of the microjaws: once in a lifetime a ship comes around and every microjaw rises from the ground. we wanted to grow up but never to grow old. this is reward for decades underground. the banquet: once in a lifetime - life, twenty four-hour feast! carnivore, rise and shine: the day of the beasts! feeding and breeding time for reproduction's cause. purpose and myth combined in carnal blessings court. accelerating jaws, barbecue 'til the morning comes, and dead again by dawn. the microjaws' lament: twenty-four hours isn't life enough, but twenty-four hours - that's all for us. feeding and fucking, sleeping, laying eggs and wait for the morning to seal our fates. the sailors' lament: this storm brought us straight to hell, to a world we didn't know of, nor could foretell. we're all weak, maybe dying, suffering from scurvy. some of us say it's better this way - to be of some use... full circle: once in a lifetime a ship comes around and every microjaw rises from the ground. we wanted to grow up but never to grow old. this is reward for decades underground. twenty-four hours isn't life enough, but twenty-four hours - that's all for us. feeding and fucking, sleeping, laying eggs and wait for the morning to seal our fates. beautiful people beautiful, sensual life: important people gather to exchange happiness. beware if you don't shine - you'll loose position. and that might never be regained. important, fashionable life: beautiful people in the beholders' eyes. they find themselves - beautiful people. we're like one big happy family. home of the brave, land of the free. i look at you and i see me. there is an awful lot of mes. successful, vital life: ever biked in burma? - no but i climbed red rock the other day! no blanks left to fill in. interesting people - well dressed, young, gifted and complete. beautiful people: we're like one big happy family. home of the brave, land of the free. i look at you and i see me. there is an awful lot of mes. beautiful people... interesting people... important people... so happy people... beautiful people: we're like one big happy family. home of the brave, land of the free. i look at you and i see me. there is an awful lot of mes... civil war there's a war within me in these days, vast battlefields of terror, so to speak. everybody's fighting everyone. even fathers are killing their own sons in frustration. a few self-righteous men proclaimed the peace, and the self-confidence became unease. the very ego's object for devaluation. wherein religion reigns there's only faith in frustration. the monsters lie awake in everyone. in every corner there's a loaded gun. for absolution, consult the army priest: arm yourself, my son, and go in peace, in frustration. in these times of primal screams we aim to make it to the tv-screen. if i should fall, would you? if i should fall i wouldn't be of that much use anymore. if i should fall, well, that is fine. then how come i'm feeling so alive? in these times of primal screams we aim to make it to the silver screen. in frustration. contained compromise, equalise, even flowing, faking life. disconnect from yourself, anything to avoid hell. drain your personality in a tranquillising mixture. a case of lost identity, increasing self-imposture. stuck in a marionette routine. calm down, here's your medicine! emphasise, penalise, incubus' breaking the ice. life is strange, well contained. nothing is really sane. the few moments of clarity are devastating to you. too weak to pull the plug out, you sink deeper into oblivion. remedy or torture? don't you agree? it's a very nice day for a walk in the park in this very nice neighbourhood. not too far, we wouldn't want to miss the medicine, would we? compromise, equalise, even flowing, faking life. disconnect from yourself, anything to avoid hell. drain your personality in a tranquillising mixture. a case of lost identity, increasing self-imposture. remedy or torture? don't you agree? it's a very nice day for a walk in the park in this very nice neighbourhood. not too far, we wouldn't want to miss the medicine, would we? in this very nice neighbourhood - but not too far... dark soon shadows hide & seeking on the patio. leaves begin to fall (and so they're used to) and find their way into the heart of me and you. i suspect it will be dark soon. the rain has ceased to fall just for an hour or two, and something's overflowing on the radio. the trees ashamed in nakedness will sleep in dew. nothing's really old and nothing's really new. for ten channels of television. it'll be dark soon enough tonight. for killing time - it's just wasting time. it'll be dark soon enough tonight. oh my god, i'm in america. oh my god, it will be dark soon. for ten channels of television. it'll be dark soon enough tonight. for killing time - it's just wasting time. it'll be dark soon enough tonight. i don't believe in union jack. i don't believe in scratching backs. i don't believe in santa claus. i don't believe in the law. i don't believe in fairy tales. i don't believe in hairy snails. i don't believe in mtv. i don't believe in anything. i don't believe in cable news. i don't believe in the jews. i don't believe in holy wars. i don't believe in junkie stars. i don't believe in jesus christ. i don't believe in alibis. i don't believe in miracles. i don't believe in the original (it's a horrible) sin. i don't believe in anything. i don't believe in anything you say. for ten channels of television. it'll be dark soon enough tonight. for killing time - it's just wasting time. it'll be dark soon enough tonight... doggy i'm picking up the pieces that you're leaving on the floor. i'm happy for these little things, but happier for more. i wag little tail as i'm retrieving the mail for you. who's that standing outside your door? i'm not related to you, but as much hated as you. you're my religion and your will is my command. i love it when you're feeding me. my stomach is a gap. i'm begging at the table, that's my muzzle in your lap. sometimes i go to bed (with you) and sometimes i'm afraid of the dark. i can't help letting out a bark. i'm not related to you, but as much hated as you. you're my religion and your will is my command. i'm on a leash... doyle's syndrome i bite - you're swallowing. i chew - you're swallowing. i spit - you're swallowing... you're swallowing! i'm turning my heroes into clowns, focusing on humour instead of arms; moving from a struggle for survival to a struggle for being taken for real. i'm breaking the one unwritten law. the hand that fed me is stuck between my jaws. i did it for myself this time, i did it for my life. cause i've been giving you lies - i swear - disguised maybe, but still lies. because it's harder to smile without lying than to shudder in fear of dying. harder still to laugh... that's why i'm killing off my heroes, one by one. i'll settle down in the countryside somewhere - breathe the open - recreate that atmosphere. way from the city blocks of concrete, hearts of steel. way from the hero with his gun as sex appeal. because it's harder to smile without lying than to shudder in fear of dying. harder still to laugh... that's why i'm killing off my heroes, one by one. i bite - you're swallowing! i chew - you're swallowing! i spit - you're swallowing! i'm killing off my heroes, one by one. killing off my heroes. dyslexia so be it, i'll be your prostitute. so be it, rather that than stupid. over and over i've been trusting my own judgement. over and over i've been barking up the wrong trees. over and over i've been missing the very point. over and over i've been making the same mistakes again. reject at eyesight - so be it, no more parasite. over and over i've been trusting my own judgement. over and over i've been barking up the wrong trees. over and over i've been missing the very point. over and over i've been making the same mistakes again. so be it... i'm disillusioned and confused. what is it all about the futile pursuit for happiness that makes the wheels turn around and around and around? i've been trusting my own judgement. i've been barking up the wrong trees. i've been missing the very point. i've been making the same mistakes. i'm disillusioned and confused. what is it all about the futile pursuit for happiness that seems to make the wheels turn around and around? yet, isn't it obvious, when you're confident, everything's upside down? the futile pursuit for happiness seems to drag us into its world of fear and disgust. so be it... fear watch me coming in, profane and thin. i'm the essence of your everything. i'll come into phase onto your face. i'm the clown dressed up in suffering. come into me, come in and feel. just let me breathe, come in and heal. it's what you see. it's just a peel. it's what i'm going to crawl in under. shut your door, kneel before my appearance, resign and swear to me your allegiance. watch me coming in, raping within, shape-shifting, becoming your twin. i'm not your faith, not your high self-esteem, not even your conscience. look at me, i'm just what you want me to be. i'm yourself and you're nothing. falling - you're my possession - falling - precious aggression - falling - and you should be my aim - falling - safe in the act we act - falling - missing the piece we lack - falling out - a game within a game. i'm coming in, profane and thin. and i'm alive in everything. and i will play on your heartstrings. i am the clown dressed up in suffering. thoughts are from within, words are without. these are the things that this life is about. like stupid memories to be nice and to please everyone. the master race has got its pace. step into the line, guard your place. it's the worshipper's suicidal chase. i'm yourself and you're nothing. falling - you're my possession - falling - precious aggression - falling - and you should be my aim - falling - safe in the act we act - falling - missing the piece we lack - falling out - a game within a game. falling - you're falling out. for all equals save a little prayer for the starving, poor and obscure said mr. right to mr. wrong and sneered. appealing to my conscience is useless said mr. wrong to mr. right and to prove this point he, quite alluringly, kissed the righteous lips forever hungry. pay a final visit to your sorry excuse for a life, said triumphant mr. victor right and cheered. sweet revenge is father to justice said mr. wrong, and soon his blood turned into minority. a crime of passion's irreversible. all this comes naturally - ethic's corrupting me, injecting its venom - humanity throughout history. declining soul, spirit entwined round wrong of wrongs and right of rights. christian justice's standing tall for all equals. failing saviour? saving failure? a dying will to criticise, to resign rather than to improvise. our apathy is an apology god. failing saviour! saving failure! all this comes naturally - ethic's corrupting me, injecting its venom - humanity throughout history. declining soul, spirit entwined round wrong of wrongs and right of rights. christian justice's standing tall for all equals. for all equals! iceberg song i appreciate everything i've got although i'm thankfully self-deceptive. appreciation is all that you get although you're thankfully receptive. i'm sorry i'm happy. i'm sorry i'm fine. we're living on the top of the world, living on the top of the world in ice caves, breathing unaware, regardless. accidents stand accused for treachery. my intentions weren't quite that illusive. yet, one mystery remains unsolved here. just how unconscious was my purpose? i'm sorry i'm happy. i'm sorry i'm fine. we're living closer to mother sun. i've got quite a tan but i'm almost blind. we're living on the top of the world, living on the top of the world in ice caves, living closer to the sun (and living here is a piece of cake) breathing unaware, regardless. i'm sorry i'm happy here. we're living closer to mother sun. i've got quite a tan but i'm almost blind. and i'm just like everybody else, like everybody else, like... inside out i couldn't count to three last night. i couldn't count at all, i'm afraid. my breath came out somewhat sweet and sour, thought i was bold but i'm a coward. my tiny core will never rest. every single no concealed a yes. i'm suffocating in self-caress. squish my guts out porcelain princess. turn me inside out. leave nothing in here to digest, mouth to throat. flush me down your cheek. your saliva and my bile mixed eternally. if i finish this last drink and buy another one go, then i won't have to be alone tonight - i'd date just about every sewer. instead i'll save myself for you - unconsciously i'm terribly true! i treasure the kneeling in front of you, and you just love my gastric juice. turn me inside out. leave nothing in here to digest, mouth to throat. flush me down your cheek. your saliva and my bile mixed eternally... the irresolute i can't decide. that is my crime. that's why i'm hiding behind my life. the options dazzle, tear me apart, leave me in pieces, improve my scars. oh no, it's happening again. save a prayer, pretend you're dead. the gift of life has strangely turned barren. oh no, it's happening again. i can't decide. that is my crime. that's why i'm hiding behind my life. oh no, it's happening again. save a prayer, pretend you're dead. the gift of life has strangely turned barren. oh no, it's happening again. lack of inspiration i sensed a lapse of time, you passed away. i grasp thin air, and nothing i could say would smash the windows, reflect on me through emptiness, break a spell which dwells in my unconsciousness. inspiration. you're as drawn to misery as mr. black cat. i can't provide you with anything like that. you're lurking somewhere inside of me until you smell my fear.then you come crawling towards the light, disguised as a stinking tear. inspiration. lack of inspiration is the answer to no questions asked, commercialized psychology. lack of inspiration breeds the creating with creation. the esoteric offspring is a meta-lyrical pointlessness, without a proper, actual use. a purchase for the very soul! my mouth is dry, my hands are shaking. my legs say run, the levee's breaking - it's the apocalypse, it's the awakening. inspiration. lack of inspiration. lighthouse-keeping song i live by the ocean. here's where i stand though my world is in motion. coast is sea and land! i can see the emotions unite reversed demands, mixing them into a potion, a transient substance. and the storm clouds, and the sea cries. lighthouse-keeping is a trade for the stars. i live in a tower with headlights on its porch. i enlighten the hour, scatter the night with my torch. and the storm clouds, and the sea cries. and the weather forecast promised rain. but i guess the season's to blame that nothing ever happens in this bay. and nothing separates tomorrow from today. in unrest to the endless crushing of the waves. and the storm clouds, and the sea cries. lighthouse-keeping is a trade for the stars. and the storm clouds, and the sea cries. and the weather forecast promised rain. l.w.t.t.c. i am here to stay. come on out and play. come out any day. come out all the way. i can't handle you. you're all over me. i can't see your eyes. jesus, why don't you save me? you're my personal mare, rise on a solar flare. inside - it's out there. outside - that's in here. sedative melodies, hypnotic rhythms, contagious alchemy. jesus, why don't you save me? there's something in my heart. there's something in my head. and there's a strange face in the mirror at midnight, and a mighty desire to administer love bites. there's something in my home. there's something in my house. night is eternity, feeds on the enemy. morning is remedy, lights up the sanity. i've done nothing right. i've done nothing wrong. i took my medicine. jesus, why don't you save me? there's something in my heart. there's something in my head. and there's a strange face in the mirror at midnight, and a mighty desire to administer love bites. there's something in my home. there's something in my house. jesus, why don't you save me? there's a strange face in the mirror at midnight, and a mighty desire to administer love bites. there's something in my home. there's something in my house. madonna mother of christ and reputation, ragged and torn - the female scent. heredity is plain incarnation, programmed to rule by subtle means. she's giving me access into her playground. conversations go around and around. i might as well surrender and kiss the ground. she's giving me no option but to stay down. generations seethe in her female glands. mother of christ and mutilation, beauty and beast at the same time. the female wand in evolution - from mother to daughter it passes on. now she's giving me access into her playground. conversations go around and around. i might as well surrender and kiss the ground. she's giving me no option but to stay down. generations seethe - generations breathe - generations need anyone to feed - generations bleed - generations heave - generations' seed in its female breed... and now she's giving me access into her playground. conversations go around and around. i might as well surrender and kiss the ground. she's giving me no option but to stay down. generations seethe in her female glands. she's giving me no option but to stay down. one good night's sleep i'm lost in a corner, no future before me. it's not like me, more likely anticipations. i am lonely too. count the days, count the weeks counterpart - i count sheep. you become the loneliness and i become the sleep i'm yearning for. without you i would be ignored, pathetically clutching at straws. attached to you resembles almost life. if you proposed then i would be your wife. it's safe here. no borders restrict me, define me. you become the patience, the essential part - and i become the rest. without you i would be ignored, pathetically clutching at straws. attached to you resembles almost life. if you proposed then i would be your wife - if once i had a good night's sleep. pigs in space freeze the frame right here, you know already what will happen next. respect is what you fear. rewind and learn - respect is to be earned. erase the memory. it must have been some self-inflicted genocide. replace it with a puppet's string. it's master will p(l)ay you all his respect. you simply lack the ability. what goes on up in these brainless quarters, a solitude, an emptiness? these poor, uncalled-for, tumourish white dwarves brain tissue into sauerkraut. you puppets on a string, front of brainwashed imbeciles, you undersigned of the dotted line respect is only to be earned. but you simply lack the ability. what goes on up in these brainless quarters, a solitude, an emptiness? these poor, uncalled-for, tumourish white dwarves brain tissue into sauerkraut. jugend... what goes on up in these brainless quarters of yours? jugend bei nah' sauerkraut. prometheus unleashed i'm underground. bury me, subsides reason, carry me inside your womb, deliver me without questions. if i'm to obey, don't question me. lay down on me in rescue, over my head, over my eyes, without questions. my heart has stored every little thorn. i'll never hesitate to return these gifts. when it is time, i'll rise above all the cities, up through the atmosphere. and from there i'll bring the whole thing down. everything has happened before, it's the nature of this stinking law. we're living in two-dimensional, geometrical figures. my heart has stored every little thorn. i'll never hesitate to return these gifts. when it is time, i'll rise above all the cities, up through the atmosphere. and from there i'll bring the whole thing down. to love to bear 'til hope creates. from its own wreck it contemplates good, great and joyous, beautiful and free - this is alone life, joy, empire and victory! raincoat i'm getting dirty in this raincoat. i'm growing hard in this rain - anonymous faces pale in glitter glare. i'm awaiting the angels. this is where they would tread. strangers may come as strangers, but angels just come and go. suddenly everything ceases to be, the world is collapsing in rhapsody. and i'm the centre of this exploding scene, but i fear that the angels might find me a little obscene to fit in their scheme. i'm getting horny in this raincoat, and it's getting kind of lonely out here in this rain. loneliness feeds the dreaming machine come to me angel, come closer. come to ol' daddy. you see, your flower was made for lovin'... but i touch myself instead. suddenly everything ceases to be, the world is collapsing in rhapsody. and i'm the centre of this exploding scene, but i fear that the angels might find me a little (a little?!!) obscene to fit in their scheme. suddenly everything ceases to be, the world is collapsing in rhapsody. and all that i see - it is only me. only me. ringside i'm on the floor, fell from breakdown. i guess i tripped on my own vanity. back on my back, legs in the air. i'm like a bug exposed to a practical joke. clutching at straws - reach for the stars i sometimes admired by this far. and if i run round and around i'll always end up where i came from. still, i will never ever pull myself together. i will never ever recover from this mighty blow under the belt. how can i forget? how can i forgive? i will never ever pull myself together. i'll always end up where i came from. role model who are you to show me guidance? who are you to be entitled? supposedly an incarnation of taste pop star or princess, i couldnt care less. who are you? how about your family? do your parents still work for a decent living? who are you? how about your childhood? daddy's in your bedroom - mom pretends you're alone? who do you think you are? how could you possibly heal me by revealing your scars? who do you think you are? how could you be serious with a syringe up your arm? the crown of god's creation, a megadollarhypesensation. well, fuck your ambition and fuck your aggression and fuck your opinions - you're way out of line... megalomaniac, the fact that you're comparing yourself to a myth deserves only medical care. star therapy, a cure for the over-gifted few: entertainers' entertainment. who do you think you are? how could you possibly heal me by revealing your scars? who do you think you are? how could you be serious with a syringe up your arm? the crown of god's creation, a megadollarhypesensation. well, fuck your ambition and fuck your aggression and fuck your opinions - you're way out of line... something to read about. something to talk about, to attach your miserable life onto. something to dream about, something as a substitute. something, just anything will do, will do. who do you think you are? well, fuck your ambition and fuck your aggression and fuck your opinions - you're way out of line... seance so, it's time. now everybody's here. we're summoning the ghost or whatever we call that what is left of inspiration. now it's time. let's join hands and rejoice. this keeps the outside where it belongs. integrated in a flesh wall, all for one and one for all. then grab your ouijja-boards, decipher the ambience. and bang those shaman drums to erase the borders of dimensions. evil powers reach out from beyond, searching to destroy our bearing ground. evil demons appear in disguise, walk among us, speak in evil tongues. frail figures, weak in the will of heart, insecure. fear is the last of notions felt before the anger. now it's time. let's join hands and rejoice. this keeps the outside where it belongs. integrated in a flesh wall, all for one and one for all. so, it's time. now everybody's here. we're summoning the ghost or whatever we call that what is left of inspiration. then grab your ouijja-boards, decipher the ambience. and bang those shaman drums to erase the borders of dimensions. evil powers reach out from beyond, searching to destroy our bearing ground. evil demons appear in disguise, walk among us, speak in evil tongues frail figures, weak in the will of heart, insecure. fear is the last of notions felt before the anger. sherlock holmes could your conviction be that strong, that dreadfully resourceful? and yet to share is to declare, and the point is to be faithful. if the ideal fits in time, somewhere in a condemned room. malice has grown its roots and the game might be afoot. the game might be afoot. exterminate the element of evil. reincarnate the cocaine hero... i'm a coward! the truth is easier to see if the pains are equally shared. a clue turns into evidence and the truth is something painful. to crack the code takes patience, to reveal the plot takes courage. to face the truth takes two and i beat about the bush. i beat about the bush. exterminate the element of evil. reincarnate the cocaine hero... i'm a coward! the game might be afoot, but i'm a coward. exterminate the element of evil. reincarnate the cocaine hero... i'm a coward! exterminate... reincarnate... (in absurdum.) sicky man sticky man is here. sticky man's allright. sticky man's got no clue but within beats a golden heart. he's got too many irons in the line of fire. he can't see the trees in his imaginary wood. sticky man's got a sticky haircut, lips determined to retain his calm. he's successful mostly, but sometimes he fails to hide his nervousness, to keeo the demons inside. he's loosing his mask, his protection, his comfort disguise. (are you accusing me of being prejudiced?) don't judge him unseen. don't convict him unheared. make up your private opinion before you go any further. sticky man tries every disguise from friend to enemy, from king to fawning slave. he's successful mostly, but sometimes he fails to hide his nervousness, to keeo the demons inside. he's loosing his mask, his protection, his comfort disguise. sticky's got too many irons in the line of fire. sticky can't see the trees in his imaginary wood. sometimes he stands and sometimes he falls and sometimes he fails to hide his nervousness. he ends up on the floor. the demons will crawl up from inside. he's loosing his mask, his protection, his comfort disguise. he fails to protect his most secret insides from the world outside. strangers i've lost the contact and the grip. i've lost it like an old friendship. here i come loaded with agony, expecting everyone's sympathy. well it's my own fantasy revealed. i kissed the ground you walked upon. i was your well house-trained son. but i stumbled in your way until i stood up to my knees in guilt. bittersweet childhood, we never even once sung the same song. i thought i killed you on that beach - driftwood and rocks won't do. only fate could be that cruel - but it's my weakness too, an unexpected inheritance! i'm running up that slope to confess imaginary crimes, but it's my weakness too. suppose i'm on that beach again. would anything be different then? would i do as i am told? would i give in to the temptations of an old irresistible sin? i'm afraid that only time will tell. i thought i killed you on that beach - driftwood and rocks won't do. only fate could be that cruel - but it's my weakness too, an unexpected inheritance! i'm running up that slope to confess imaginary crimes, but it's my weakness too. we are strangers to eachother. we are strange to one another. i thought i killed you on that beach - driftwood and rocks won't do. only fate could be that cruel - but it's my weakness too, an unexpected inheritance! i'm running up that slope to confess imaginary crimes, but it's my weakness too. substitute for chance intensified, foolhardy life. dance on the edge, defying death. crossing that line - so satisfied. momentary joy in a flesh toy. a fashion of suspense. a mechanism of defence. a shelter from security. a substitute for chance. speed speaks to me. speed comforts me. try unity with eternity. a fashion of suspense. a mechanism of defence. a shelter from security. a substitute for chance. the counterweight to safety is the game. the counterweight to safety is the name of the game. thought metabolism armour, achilles - that is the key. good for you, counterpart to me. in another sense we're swimming in the same sea - head over heels. my soul i heal in torment, devouring the source of pain. thought metabolism - sip from oblivion. bury, forget, erase... my soul is an empty place. this maze supplies a candle when there's no light. but it's a useless mould - no impressions left to file. still, it's a comforter, establishing contact with time. natural selection - monument over a child. not even echoes collide here. thought metabolism - sip from oblivion. bury, forget, erase... my soul is an empty place. this maze supplies a candle when there's no light. but it's a useless mould - no impressions left to file. still, it's a comforter, establishing contact with time. natural selection - monument over a child. the hardest way is home. the hardest way is back home to square one. the hardest way leads through the armour, through the monumental maze. the hardest way is lit but no trace of anything can be found. not a clue, a lead to follow - definition is vacuum! not even echoes collide here. this maze supplies a candle when there's no light. but it's a useless mould - no impressions left to file. still, it's a comforter, establishing contact with time. natural selection - monument over a child. not even echoes collide here. torture then pour a trace of salt onto my wounds. it depends on my reaction whether you loose or not. pain is the language you're speaking and fear is my response. translate this phrase to stop the game. tiny water drops hollow my bones. you're not addicted to answers - you sometimes use them though. i'm drinking your instrument of torture and pissing out the waste. in my mouth there's a sudden taste of blood. step back you might get more than that! you pull my teeth, my nails out. you thrust needles into my eyes. you work with fire, electricity, drugs, plastic surgery, and hot spices. physical torture isn't part of my pain. it just hurts me not to know what you want from me eventually. step back you might get more than that! middle ageing in gilded cages, is that what you really want interrogation symbiotic? step back you might get more than that! middle ageing in gilded cages, is that what you really want interrogation symbiotic? step back you might get more than that! overrated! constipated! the tower in a house, a home, a room with the only exit through the window. i pay my bills in claustrophobia, a stable currency worthy my guilt. can you hear me screaming, scratching, biting the walls? i'm an animal in a cage. my mind's set to escape. i curse the view, considering its splendour's in inverse proportion to my prospect of escaping - magnificence or jail breaking… can you hear me screaming, scratching, biting the walls? i'm an animal in a cage. my mind's set to escape. i keep watering the flowerpots although the plants are all drained by now. maybe something will grow out of tenderness - spontaneously alive. i wish i was man enough to stand up straight. but i'm living in a lie and that's the truth. tracker i used to know your secrets, every little part of you, as well as i would have known myself. i used to find the way out of your labyrinth. i used to do it with closed eyes. but now i find myself, i find myself astray, even when watching you by far. by distance, from behind the one-way glass - i'm in my temporary world on wheels. i used to know every name, every silhouette, of your thousand faces i used to know. i used to feed on your life, like a parasite. you were the bottom of my food chain. and if i could lead myself, if i could today, then i would use my fear as path. by distance, from behind the one-way glass - i'm in my temporary world on wheels. i travel sheltered from the weather. i travel sheltered from the others. i travel sheltered from the violence. but as long as find myself behind the glass, i find myself as lost as missing; by distance, from behind the one-way glass. no one cares and no one listens in my temporary world on wheels. here i am, i mind my own business in my temporary world on wheels. here i am, i mind my own fucking business in my temporary world on wheels. i'm in my temporary world on wheels. world on wheels... tvcide i saw myself in the corner of a mirror, watching anything on my tv. nothing's strange, nothing changed, nothing's happening tomorrow if it hasn't already happened here today. i'm alone in the room with the television set switched off. but the screen still transfers pictures to my head. i'm self-inflicted, contradicted, vision addicted, lonely sickened. i put the remote control into my mouth. self-infliction. live transfiguration. vision addiction. live transfiguration. then i'm broadcasted via satellite, live in every home blessed with a tv-set, receivable at 60 mhz. just one voice for the millions, just one flesh fulfils its purpose. watch my fading pulse turn swiftly into air. self-infliction. live transfiguration. vision addiction. live transfiguration. it's soon forgotten in a world-wide perspective. if you missed it - watch the rerun later on this afternoon. whore i wore the crown of thorns. i touch you to the core. but if i turned back the clock, then i might decide whether you are my liege or my reason to die. i'm not that sure. shut up! my flesh is just a crunch to you. my blood's shed as a sip or two. your ceremony's repulsive, bizarre as a fact. you claim your messiah as a deal in a pact. my name is the one that you're abusing. shut up! i wear the crown of thorns. i'm king of the obscure. but if my eyes don't deceive me - i've seen you before, in the shape of the justice symbolised on your door. i'm nothing but yours. shut up! shut up 'cause i've got something beautiful to show to you. womb bowl soup swim with the fish in holy waters. redevelop your gills - molecule ladders ascending to surface. mother of earthly tiny creatures, stirs in her womb bowl soup. it tastes delicious - bathybius heackeli! ghost in a shell of hydrocarbon sinks into sleep or oblivion. sink or swim. her pond wherein all life grew up, through radiation orbit laps, to man from molecular soup the evolution in its youth. substance, boiling promises, indifference in ponds like these. undifferentiated mud to worship as material god. organic mould, profane conception, stranglehold without divine interaction - anti-pantheism! then worship the mud for possibilities never acquired in larger quantities. better luck next time. womb bowl soup, atomic slapstick, primitive losers in prehistoric, organic hollywood. her pond wherein all life grew up, through radiation orbit laps, to man from molecular soup the evolution in its youth. substance, boiling promises, indifference in ponds like these. undifferentiated mud to worship as material god. you're tranquillised and sedated. your medication's right according to the scientists. you should be all right. but still hallucination voices guide you to insight. her pond wherein all life grew up, through radiation orbit laps, to man from molecular soup the evolution in its youth. substance, boiling promises, indifference in ponds like these. undifferentiated mud to worship as material god. to worship as material god... wooden home it's a deep sleep enough to please. the season's nesting in the trees. summer's disguised as the raven. she's black eyed, but in her haven the true colours dwell. wooden home among the branches leafy curtain, starry roof. home sweet home close to the nature and close to you. her voice sunk softly through the limy structure of my head, calling natural instincts off to bed. so, we're birds of a feather. and in lust we flock together, producing... eggy homes among the branches leafy curtains, starry roofs. homes sweet homes close to the nature and close to you. from our tree we see the world through its people, watching tv in homes as dead as the beetle in my beak. wooden home among the branches leafy curtain, starry roof. home sweet home close to the nature and close to you.