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1. |
Upić się
03:08
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Jeszcze tylko dwadzieścia lat
Nowa dekada, nowy czas
Jeszcze tylko dwadzieścia lat
Z krzyżem na piersi, atak na świat.
Jeszcze tylko trzydzieści lat
Wielkie aspiracje, wielkie marzenia
Jeszcze tylko trzydzieści lat
Stare bolączki, przyzwyczajenia
Mam tego dosyć
Kręci mi się w głowie
Obietnicy i przemowy
A jaki koniec?
To jedno to warto to upić się warto
Jeszcze tylko pięćdziesiąt lat
Dziś jesteś wolny, rób co chcesz
Jeszcze tylko pięćdziesiąt lat
Pragniesz żyć lepiej to walcz jak lew
Jeszcze tylko sto lat
A kiedy nie wiesz co robić masz
Jeszcze tylko sto lat
To jedno to warto to upić się warto
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2. |
On Your Back
02:06
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This is our long-awaited come back
And we are glad to see you’re back
For we enjoy your warm welcome
You give us in this gorgeous town
Our teeth are brighter than ever
Our hair is cleaner than ever
We’re smart, we’re neat, a bit older
And we love you more than ever.
Hats and caps, socks and T-shirts
We make money on your back
To spend your dear money, my friends
More than one idea we have
You’ll find at our merchandizing stand
Where we welcome you with a smile
The complete set of the real fan
Especially shaped for your pleasure
To testify that we’re still alive
And that our songs will never die.
Now break open your piggy banks
And cough up for our moneybox
Our posters, badges and carpets
Will surely suit your naïve brains
It’s up to you to choose, my friends
Our special dub-rage US mix
Or this last unplugged TV show
As long as you just pay in cash
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3. |
Cancion báquica
03:07
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Un dia fue al bar para ver si y estaba
En el momento en el cual entraba, el llegaba
Aprovechó para invitarse a un trago
Y no pudo rehusar
Cuando quisó hacerse otro tanto
Es asi que de cortesía en cortesía
Terminó por perderse de vista
Es asi que se anda de boca en boca
La historia del Tío Pepe.
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4. |
Sangre, sangre
03:24
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Ese domingo, sali por primera vez
Me habian prometido una fiesta de reyes
2000 convidados para recibirme
Paso doble a todo volumen
Llegó un mallordomo
Vestido de grano y oro
Y muy elegante, quisó bailar con migo
Ese domingo, sali por primera vez
El mallordomo no estaba solo
2000 sádicos para empalarme
El paso doble
Me sueno fatal
Anda a navajazos
El vampiro bailador
Y presuntuoso
Voy a sangrarle como un toro
Una horda sanguinaria quiere ver y oler Sangre
Sangre, sangre. Viva la corrida.
Ese domingo como cada semana
Tengo las manos manchadas de sangre
Soy el jifero de la plaza de toros
El paso doble
Me sueno banal
Berrea el rebano
Al hidalgo al suelo
Y muy afeado
Bañando en su sangre.
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5. |
The Night is Over
03:21
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The night is over
The first sign of the sun
After endless winter months
Is for today
Is this a cynical sun?
Or did you wait for spring
To take a silent leave
At the dawn of the hope season
To close a cold chapter
As the buds open to a new life
Those hours would be the last
So we sat the quiet night
Huddled up against your bed
Hands in hands, hearts in hearts
Watching your slightest moves
Feeling your weakening throbs
Waiting for the day to break
For the first rays on your eyes
The night has been so long
Our hearts have been stirring
But yours was tiring out
And gave up with the birds
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6. |
Happy Fifties
03:46
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Much progress has been made
With regard to the white hair
Since the time of our forebears
Since the Age of the Old Sage
Their days have been extended
By the miracles of medicines
But those days are getting longer
In their lonely kitchen gardens
Our world respects its elders
At the head of governments
Where their wisdom may, it seems
Be of profit to politics
But when you’re just a working man
Of fifty or sometimes even less
The years you’ve spent in the same firm
Will not keep them from kicking you out
Too old at fifty
Too quaint to be of use
To anything or to anyone
As Time begins its wearing work
And takes the colour out of your hair
Say farewell to your comfy job
The next stop is at the dole queue
For the ageing is now considered
As a lethal professional fault
That you will pay for the next long years
Idle, useless but healthy.
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7. |
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After the deafening fever of yesterday night
A few hours to dry the toxic sweat
From my wrinkled forehead
And off I go
In my pink slippers
Eggs and bugs and kitchen roll
To sustain my baggy flesh
To sustain my soaky bones
My hells-angels jacket neatly packed
In my wardrobe
I can now resume
To my daily chores
Eggs and bugs and kitchen roll
Much has still to be said
For Sunday breakfast in bed
This embryonic chick awaits a lethal fate
As my shaky hands grab
The deadly pan
The rotten butter knits
A tight and juicy web
Eggs and bugs and kitchen roll
An instant crash
Is all it takes
To crack the shell
But amidst the haze of noon
The creepies crawl
And gather for the feast
The frothy mist of Memories
Drowns my liver in dismay
Eggs and bugs and kitchen roll
A desperate attempt to reach the craphole
Bounces my face in the burning yoke
As my mouth rejects
My brewed nostalgia
Eggs and bugs and kitchen roll
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8. |
Winter
03:49
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The stopping train is heading to darker places
To the end of a city
That stretches itself out
Between the metal flanks
Of the purring animal
The dank atmosphere smells like damp fur
Wintertime justifies the toughness of the night
The windows sweat steam,
The corridor closed its sides
Haloes of the city light
Blur the translucent glass
Red and yellow, pink and blue.
An alien world of “life still goes on”
Surrounds the passing-by engine
When the set is absurd
And the aim is hazy
When there’s absolutely no reason
To freeze in vain
I cast my eyes on useless posts,
The set is absurd and Winter sighs
Winter grins. Winter wins.
I close my eyes and let Him pass
The formal ceiling leaks greasy droplets,
Trying to drown the dirty ground
But concrete does not drink
And puddles eat into the platform
A lousy weather splutters through the tunnel
To the faces of the weary commuters
Muffled voices float, flutter and sink,
By bribes, dragged down into the tunnel
Across the rails,
Hopping human shades
Have their eyes cast on the silent clock
Useless signposts in a deserted station
Are vital scribblings
To stick to.
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9. |
Sniper
03:42
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It’s hard to say what drove me straight
To this raving madness, to this bloodthirsty fate
I suppose I must be wrong
But does it really matter anyway?
The odds did not break even,
My place is with the gun powder
My lair takes cover
At the top of this building
Smashed open in its heart
By the impact of a mortar fire
This humming dump I squat
In constant firing position
Spits out of its blind window
My last messages of hate
Like you, my dreams were pure
Like them, this town delighted my days
Under the Bosnian sun
I’m sowing death, as is my wont
Mechanically, relentlessly
By hails of bullets, thorns of fire
On the careless heroes of the street
This death trap I defend
Will be my final resting-place
But I swear that in my deadly free fall
I’ll drag them down with me
I know I will die young
Shot dead like a mad dog
In my back without a word
Or in my sleep
With no further notice
My corpse then blown to scraps of flesh
Will there remain with no mercy
Left to the worms besides my rifle
Forever left to shame and oblivion.
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10. |
Tati
01:19
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11. |
Cat Burden
03:06
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All was quiet by the fireside
When the set quickly collapsed
The white cat curled on the sofa
Suddenly propped to her feet
Horror-struck by a sighted fly
Flitting about brazenly
To the questioning gaze of the wild cat
Answered this appeasing “Just a fly”
That I couldn’t help to utter
Like a fool so unaware
Of the grip I had just lost
Saying that to the weird wild animal
This is no fun anymore
Mewed the white puma on the watch
Do something, we cannot allow
There’s a flying invader in the place
The foolish fly had gone too far
The desperation reached the top
The drama’s witness I was marked
By the majesty of the snow-tiger
The fatal knock fell swiftly, accurate and delicate
Instantly crushed by the lion’s paw
The unwise fly had ceased to fly
The white kitty then proudly turned
With that gaze she gives me daily now
Like a question she can’t even spell
But that I suspect to read
In her noble bearing
Are you stupid?
Are you mad?
Have you lost all your pride?
The time is not so far.
The time you were a cat.
Come on, mew along the cat burden.
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12. |
First Cold Pint
03:14
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In that bar on this square
I would often sit in the morning
At ten, sipping coffee
Waiting for the time of the strange puppet
And he would always come
At the same hour
With the same iron will
Staggering to the same table
The first cold pint, hard to swallow
The second, tepid, quickly down
Next ones bottoms up.
At noon, I would sit again
With my cheerful comrades
At the bar where we were learning
How to drink more and faster
And he would still sit there
At the same table
With his lifeless sunken eyes
Ordering beers two by two.
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13. |
Lindisfarne
04:20
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Holy Island no longer ply
As usual along the coasts
The huge vessel now sails away
Firmly reaching for the open sea
Its stately prow stands proudly out
Against streaming walls of cotton wool
Wrapping up the whole vessel
In the silent torpor of a mysterious trip
When the fog lands on Northern coast
It sometimes gives a sound of silence
So heavy that even the stubborn waves
Hush for a while their dogged roar
And when the tamed waters gently lap
Against the feet of a misty wall
The time has come for Lindisfarne
To weigh its anchor and slip away.
The great journey though never last
For when the weather will be cleared
A mooring road thrown over the sea
Will link the ship to the dry land
But the “Old Salts” make no mistake
Indeed the barge has somewhat changed
Bumps and dunes sanded down
By the howling winds from the open sea
One day the island won’t come back
And Lindisfarne will touch the pole.
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14. |
Homeless
02:50
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Caught in a heavy downpour,
The couple had made their minds
To enter this little pub
Where we were both seated, seated side by side.
The young guy had the tired face
Of men that just have suffered
The torments of a long flight,
The pangs of betrayal
They held the tiny hands
Of their two little girls
They had proudly snatched out
Of the stricken gem of Bosnia.
“Sarajevo is where we lived “
Said the young mother
By way of apology
For their threadbare clothing.
“We arrived this morning”
Said the young hero
The wrench has been avoided
As long as we are together.
They stayed for a while
Munching chunks of gherkins
Having a quiet chat
As though nothing had happened
But what their eyes had seen
Never they would mention
Nor even try to bank
On this merciful found land,
This new land of welcome.
A timid sun appeared
To greet a farewell smile
They quietly slipped away from our anxious eyes
Into a nameless street.
I hope I’ll never come to understand
Why they felt so free and safe
Miles away from the Bosnian ruins
So homeless
In this driving rain.
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15. |
Chickamauga Creek
05:25
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The oozing steam of blood and fire
Fill with grimness every fall of Chickamauga
The pounding hooves of a thousand chargers
Dully rumble
Like a distant growl
As if the battle had never been stopped
For fifty thousands of those drafted suckers
Thrashing their kinsmen in a fratricide war
On the wooded banks of an Indian legend
Dressed in blue or dressed in grey
The poor devils have on both sides
Hand in hand manured the soil of Georgia
And shed their lives in Chickamauga Creek
At the feet of the mountains
Flows the River of Blood
A paleface blood
Meeting an Indian word
When the sky clouds over
The end of summer
Indian hymns and battle songs
Rise side by side from the River of Blood.
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Kermess Belgium
Kermess a sévi de 1994 à 2000 un peu partout en Belgique mais aussi en France et en
Suisse...
Près de 200 concerts boostés à l'adrénaline punk-folk multilingue du groupe où la bonne humeur générale était au rendez-vous. Des ballons et des rouleaux de PQ en guise de guirlandes... Ils ont paratgé la scène de groupes tels que UK Subs, Pigalle, PPz 30, Marcel et son Orchestre, Barking Dogs, etc
... more
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