1. |
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Adequate amount of violence
We’re not here for fun. We’re here because conscience calls. We’re not here for violence. But we’re ready and willing to do what it takes to end this hideous display of spite. Come as hard as they come, but there’s a price that you’re gonna pay. We’re standing together. You’ll be the ones to be running today. We’ll fight back! This time we know we are right. There’s no middle ground today. No holding hands and no candles lit. Debate’s for tomorrow. For now I got what I need: My friends by my side, some left over gasoline. The will to do damage is a brand new sensation for people like me. I resent it, but still I am up for a fight The wolves are out today, but we won’t be sheep. We’ll be anything but sheep. ‘cause we sing: You don’t scare us now!
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2. |
Solitude
02:34
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Solitude
Nobody calls assuming that you’re busy or they just think that you suck. No one stops by when passing through your neighborhood. Look at me – it’s not me! Bent and broken and not free; so much older than my age. Still wonder why you’re not giving up on chasing dreams, or rather ghosts from the past that you still call your future and hold dear, resisting to get old.
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3. |
Love, Claustrophobic
03:10
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Love, claustrophobic
Like knots in the fabric, we all weave alone there are these moments in my past: undeniable mistakes. I turned right when the right way was left. I know I should’ve refused, but I said yes. A map unread, six prayers said and three curses, too. The X marks a nowhere (my hell is a cold room) somewhere inside of you. You better say fast what needs to be said before it’s goodbye at long last, separate ways without compass. I can’t say where these feet will take me. Just know one thing for dead sure: I can not stay here. I got lost looking for the comfort of a love so warm and soft and dimly lit. Where the fuck did I end up here? Cold and curled upon white tiles, covering my weak spots instead. I’ll never find myself in the white of a neon light. Break free into a moonless dawn, I’ll cut through thickets and thorns until I reach the road that leads me to myself.
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4. |
Weed Whacker
03:05
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Weed whacker
Intimacy, a fragile plant that takes years to grow and bloom: a crippled stem, the rotten stench, from poisoned soil to root. And still despite this repulsive apparition I thought I could love this weed in wild mutation. I could never find my free will in coercion. You could never see the beauty in my perversion. With the deep desires open, inside out, the babylike self-centeredness so frequently turned down. It’s not the freedom that I meant. This is solitude settling in. The metaphors bring honesty to a higher definition, express the inexpressible and still strike a false note. The two of us are both listening to old melodies of doubt, pain and decision. It’s not the freedom that I meant. This is solitude settling in. I am not putting the blame anywhere that isnʼt here. I will keep you in my mind as the loved one you once were.
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5. |
January 21st
03:44
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January 21st
A thousand better reasons to look handsome in a suit. This time we all look handsome for you. And we’re all here and snow is falling from the sky like frozen tears, like someone planned this whole good-bye. January 21st – We are of dust, to dust we turn. Another thousand reasons to play “Against the grain“ but in these songs you safely remain. Three chords away from any kind of salvation. That’s when we laid a tie that binds: a foundation. Kinda wore thin as we grew up ´tween kindred minds but severed not. Too late too soon, too soon too late. You’ll always stay 16 in my head Too soon too late, too late too soon. All my hymns seem out of tune. Under six feet of memories: Stories I remember all so well. I missed a lot more in the years between, grateful for the ones I live to tell, while I dance in borrowed shoes to a fading tune. From all my heart: Thank you and farewell!
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6. |
Constant Stream Of Fear
03:23
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Constant stream of fear
All this bitterness, all the emptiness, the constant flow of pain. All your problems solved and all your sins absolved and still it feels the same. You cannot change your ways of thinking, even though you tried your best. You cannot mend the broken neurons nor the feeling in your chest: the constant stream of fear. Try not to change just who you are. You‘re bound to break. Another scar on the canvas of your soul remains a mess beyond control. Why not accept what you‘ve become instead of wrecking everyone around who just happened to like you with all your defects and the wrongs? Your curse on those who love you most. You cursed yourself and still ignore how much better things could be: Less hurtful than a constant stream of fear.
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7. |
Content
03:43
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Content
So you think this is the best that it can get Nine to five, then the couch and straight to bed. Communication reduced to a bunch of lines so full of mistrust, hate and envy. What’s the point in talking when it’s not your words? What’s the point in spreading hate speech when it hurts? Is it ok when it’s aimed at someone else, well designed to make you special? How do you think this makes me feel? Why do you think I want to deal with all the content that you post just designed to hurt the most? Is there anything that matters? Anything? Repeated lies and all those fakes, broken hope and no more faith in anything or anyone. Is this the blueprint for society? And if it is – I guess it’s safe to say that we are left backs to a wall that no one can tear down. Because we’re trapped in our comfort zone that can’t be left just using thumbs where complex thoughts just raise a frown. Not fit for a headline, no funny meme, viral re-tweet. A hundred forty characters don’t seem enough for a remedy. A turning point’s not on your map and what’s not there does not exist.
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8. |
Keep The Onions
02:24
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Keep the onions
At the end of all our arguments it boils down to the difference between a mix-tape and a youtube link. Shattered lives and incomplete biographies, fragmented memories. Break-ups, never clean-cuts. Something’s lost and I am sorry. I’m waking up to my own sobs, keep the tears under control while I’m awake. I watch myself fall out of love. My voice seems steady, my hands won’t stop shaking. Fill this place with emptiness – your bags are packed. I feel life escape through every window crack. Fill this place with silence – nothing’s left or right to say. I know you won’t but the sadness will remain. Since your breathing won’t sing me to sleep anymore I’ll just scream until I’m sore. No more shall your skin keep me warm through the night. This cut is my surrender.
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9. |
Tomorrow Mourning
04:48
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Tomorrow mourning
I guess what you tried to teach me is to take things as they are. And all the obstacles that life brings will be easy to overcome, if you see things as they are – and let go. What’s left now are good memories of you enduring life with a smile. In retrospect I regret that I have rarely asked for a piece of your advice or your company. I wonder why I just can’t let you go. I know that catching up and making good are things I never did (but should have done). I hope you knew that I was caught up in myself, when I always tried to have my cake and eat it, too. I wish I had left cover to face things as they were. I regret that I could not accept that there was no way back from the place that you were in to the place that I wanted you to be.
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10. |
Iron Henry
03:49
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Iron Henry
Started off all wrong, began with our best illusions. Projected needs and roles decreed turned us into our worst delusion. And I’ll dive into the darkness to fetch your golden ball. And you’ll keep me as companion or cast me against the wall. Realizing soon: You blew the deal, I can’t keep up with you. But did you know I‘d go to any lengths to keep us dear and I still do. Finally understood: The remedy was your rejection. My greedy stare transformed to kinder eyes. Uncaging our true affection. King‘s little daughter, open to me. By the water‘s where you promised me. King‘s little daughter From plate to silken bed carry me, please, carry me. O, Iron Henry, where have you been? Free your heart of every iron band. O, Iron Henry, still devoted but yet free, o, Iron Henry, you’re a part of me.
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Clint Hanover, Germany
Das Punkrock-Trio Clint gehört zu den zahlreichen Bands, die Mitte der 90er im Grunde
dadurch entstanden
sind, dass ein paar Freunde gemeinsam voller Enthusiasmus zu den
Instrumenten greifen, um die Bühnen dieser Welt zu erobern.
Clint spielen von Anfang an ihren eigenen Stiefel, finden schnell ihren eigenen Stil.
Clint klingen wie Clint. Und das ist auch gut so.
... more
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