01. From Russia With Crabs

Friday night is just a sperm bank in disguise:
non-profit gigolos and Trojan whores,
storks poppin’ Valium to kill the remorse.
Whatever happened to the shotgun weddings,
knitting needles and Austrian basements?

No love.

Love might be the skeleton key to our hearts
but it doesn’t pay the corporate bills.
What we lack in self-esteem we make up for in back alleys,
and now our babies are addicted to your abortion pills.

Disaster, disaster! Here comes the morning after!
This hatchery is hard at work.
“How did you and daddy meet, mommy?”
“Well, your father woke up in his bed and there he met me”

Can you feel it?

No love.

Have we forgotten what The Beatles once sang?
Two’s company, three’s a gang bang.

02. UNDR33553D 4 5UCC355

A celebrity got shot in the face just over there.
OMG, how was her hair? And what dress did she wear?
Was it the flashes in their eyes that made her soul vaporize?
We’ve made our fucking wish, now we want our fucking prize!

Is this guy an artist or a copycat with knifes?
Is this guy a butcher or a saint for trophy wives?
You know, he’s got his degree but can’t help you on the inside
His body is willing and his moral is weak.
His arms are sharp but they can’t cut that deep

Now, I would tell you that you’re beautiful just as you are
but it’s bad for business.
So I’ll lie to your face and fix your nose and your jaw,
but the underlying issue is that I need another house
And now my wife says she wants another change for the better
Cervix with a smile. Got hymenorraphy?
I have a picture of my face in my wallet.
I like to keep it next to where my heart used to be
What you need is a sexy solution: an anti age process revolution
Sucking napalm from a perfect breast;
We’re baptized in formaldehyde and surgically blessed

Camouflage your face to better blend in with the blind
Your digital deception has got us perplexed
Your face is whoreific, paid for with your daddy’s Amex
Is this a charity or just another cash parade?
Napalm lips taste better at the machinegun buffet

Discourage, reassure, reconstruct: BDD

Disaster! Disaster! Here comes the morning after!

You better blend in with the blind!
Your digital deception has got us perplexed
Your face is whoreific, paid for with your daddy’s Amex
Is this a charity or just another cash parade?
Napalm lips taste better at the machinegun buffet

We want you to be the next JonBenet.
We do this… We did this for you.

Now, what kind of daughter doesn’t want her mother to be happy?
What kind of mother doesn’t want a daughter
to be everything she couldn’t be herself?
Yeah, she looks good up on that stage,
but does she cry when you fuck her in the mouth?

03. Peace, Love & Bankruptcy

This machine is a treacherous one:
a windmill driven by the final breaths of its operators
The shepherds lost their way and sold our souls
for thirteen pieces of white gold

Yeah!
 Get your plastic prophet here!
How many lost souls can you fit inside a pelicans beak?

Faster, faster! Tend to the great machine!
Faster, faster! For it runs on broken dreams

This world is diseased
with archbishops, cardinals and pedophile priests
Do you still believe?

Criminal negligence; gluttonous pelicans guarding aquariums filled with our only way out

Needy, greedy
“Feed me! Feed me!”
Needy, greedy. “Feed me!”
You wear their lives round your neck like cumshot jewelry
“Feed me! Feed me!”

Let’s fill this black hole with more anesthetics, antibiotics and self-pity.
Anti-depressants, sex & violence. Jesus™, money, and mediocrity.

This world is deceased
with empty houses and nothing in between
Do you still believe?

Our hearts make a black cloud
Raining cocaine and cholesterol into our gutter-like veins
Giving us heart attacks, heart attacks, heartaches and heart attacks

04. Sleep Vs. Sharkweek

We’re all dead.
We’re all dead.
We’re all dead.

The streets were paved with casualties that clogged the city’s arteries.
The beat slowed down and suddenly our eyes were open wide.
Did they know semaphore?
I could have sworn I saw them spell
”WE FAILED OURSELVES” as they fell
from digital towers into cesspools
disguised as wishing wells.

If left with the option, which arm would you cut off?
The knife is the ocean, so cut it, cut it!
Like a new-born paraplegic one trick pony,
wet-nursed by those who survived the flood
but got stuck in the mud.

Many a moth has died in its search for the light.
It’s the heat not the warmth that kills them;
heartbroken, burned out and left to die.

Left with no option.
Left with no soul.
Left with no hope.

Left with no conscience.
Left with no goal.
Left with no choice

.

Need it all. Must have more.

Just one more dollar.
Just one more need
Just one more dream unfulfilled

Got it all. Must. Have. More.

Did they know semaphore?
I could have sworn I saw them spell
”WE FAILED OURSELVES” as they fell
from digital towers into cesspools
disguised as wishing wells.

I’ve told myself in rhyme for the 27th time:
”If I don’t believe in nothing, at least I believe in something”
Look at you now.
 We’re all dead.

05. One Bird In The Hand Is Worth Nothing

One bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, they say
So quit your dreaming, it might not happen
Stick with what you’ve got, never get disappointed
Stop hoping
Stop evolving
Settle for mediocrity

Be afraid
Buy the product
Trust in some higher power to fix life for you
Get any job
Make as much money as you can
There’s nothing life can give you that you can not buy

Ambition is for leaders, and you are but a sheep
All you can do is get in line, in time, and do as you are told
So stick with what you’ve got, and you’ll never get disappointed
Life itself is just as faint as the blown out candles on your birthday cake

Be afraid
Buy more products
Trust in some higher power to fix life for you
Get any job
Make as much money as you can, while you can
There’s nothing life can give you that you can not buy

And how are you ever going to succeed with unbleached, off-white and crooked teeth?
They will laugh.
You will cry.
And as you drown, Buchannon screams: ”We want your money!”

06. Lesson #9

“Our children will thank us”, they said.
Then they stole our youth.
Set it ablaze in an amphetamine haze,
and the sun faded away.

A million scientists just fell off the earth.
It’s in today’s headlines, so
with leaky hulls and cul-de-sac skulls
we set our ships to sea.

I don’t get what all the fuss is about.
And when your world comes crashing down I’ll be there, but not for you.

I’d like to see you talk your way out of this one, son;
you’ve got their blood on your hands.
So unless you’ve got some kind of cunning diversion
I suggest you face the wall instead.

I don’t get what all the fuss is about.
And when your world came crashing down I was there, but not for you.

07. Honk If You’re A Nihilist

We used to wear our lungs on our sleeves,
but I guess we got tired of breathing for the trees.

Because now there are ghosts in our fax machines
and obese pelicans nesting in the streets.



You can’t see the forest for there are no trees.

Skyscrapers tear the sky in half, bleeding carpools unto the earth.

No need to breathe, they‘re selling lung machines.


This piano lost its voice long time ago.

No one ever plays it, so no one will know.


Have a nice day at the factory!

08. Mørketid

Det nøtte ikke med kart å kompass.

Det nøtte ikke å lytte til erfarne fjellfolk.

Nån gang må man træff bunn førr å vite kors’n vei som e opp.

Så græv dæ ned i tide. 
Du ser bare lysan når det e mørkt, vet du.
Så græv dæ ned.



Når ingenting går, ingenting ordne sæ å ingen førrstår.

Nættern blir væranes, dagan dæm går.

Samme jævla dansen år etter år, å protesan e nedslitt.



Når ingenting går føle æ mæ verdilaus.

Å fire utav tolv gjer mæ blodsmak i kjæft’n.



Det nøtte ikke med kart å kompass.

Det nøtte ikke å lytte til erfarne fjellfolk.

Nån gang så miste man fotfestet å dætt ned fra fjell, å ned i en dal.

Det e langt igjen til toppen, men æ gjer mæ nu fan.



Æ har null respekt eller sympati førr folk
som sulte ihjæl fræmførr smekkfulle brødboksa.

09. Beneath A Plastic Sun

This world has gone to shit.

There is nothing left to save.

Take one last fauxtography before it fades away.

False hope is still hope, but all I had has gone away.

Nobody can save us now, there’s nothing left to save.



Do androids dream of electric sheep?


Let’s fill this black hole with more anesthetics, antibiotics and self-pity.
Anti-depressants, sex & violence. False hope, money and mediocrity.



Do electric sheep know they’re electric?



This world has gone to shit.

There is nothing left to save.

Take one last fauxtography before it fades away.

False hope is still hope, but all I had has gone away.

Nobody can save me, there is nothing left to save.

01. MARCH OF THE LOCUSTS

The locust marches on like a pack of troubled teens headed for the mall.
On and on and on and on.
The hungry hyenas wanting more and more and more and more.
This ship has been sinking since it left shore.

When all this is over and the locusts are gone.
More locusts will come, more locusts will come.
When all this is over the vultures have won.
Eloquence is silver, violence is gold.

We’re dying for a living and our sun-starved hearts are bleeding pink noise. Our hands are swollen, our sleeves are wet, and vultures with laser beaks are carving their initials into our brittle, brittle bones. Locusts with scorpion tales and human phases will devour our only source of light.

Five months have been five years.
And five years for a locust is a lifetime for man.
Where is the sun now? We’re running out of light.
Where is the sun now? This ends tonight!

Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah, one more time for the death row!

We build catacombs with complicated lies.
Catacombs for catastrophic light.
Cutting and swarming and eating the sun.
A rape by any other name…

When all this is over and the locusts are gone.
More locusts will come, more locusts will come.
When all this is over the vultures have won.
Eloquence is silver, violence is gold.

02. SMASH THE CRYSTAL LARYNX!

This ship has been sinking since it left shore!

Stitches. Eyelids.

This room is filled with narcissistic bats in perpetual motion.
The windows are nailed shut, have been for seven nights.
Guarded by vultures on the window pane. TV gives us light.

This syringe is being filled with narcoleptic sharks.
They find their way through our bloodstream, and finally eat our hearts.

Just ‘cause you don’t scratch it doesn’t mean it doesn’t itch.

This wall-to-wall carpet is covered with broken glass.
And we’re dancing barefoot to the beat of our past.
Behind two-way mirrors they’re watching us fight over who gets which thread first.
And we’re dancing barefoot on the glass.

Let’s tear this room apart.
Come see the other side.

03. VULTURE CULTURE

Vulture, flap your wings.

04. YOU CAN’T HUG YOUR CHILDREN WITH NUCLEAR ARMS

What’s that noise?
I don’t know but it sounds just like a swarm.
Could this be another splinter in the paw?
Could it be that this has happened before?

What’s that noise?
I don’t know but it’s a noise I’ve heard before.
Could it be that we’re the splinter, not the paw?
Could it be that we have done this before?

What’s that noise?
It’s the appendix of the bats inside their throat.
This is what happens when you leave them with no choice,
no rights, no vocal cords. This is what happens when vultures take control.
Wake up! A burning book is a book best forgotten.
You won’t get paper cuts out of cotton.
Self-righteous and self-employed.
She sits in the shadows with her pens and her swords.

Out of the sky comes a cloud of broken glass.
It cuts through our eyes like stiletto dust.
Pillagers, scavengers, money-ridden swarms.
Axioms carved under see-through skin.
No conscience, no consequence.
Vultures dressed in corporate grins numb us back to sleep.

Wake up!
Every action has a re-action.
The comatose librarian sits at the table burning her old books word for word.
She’s got a pen filled with our blood,
and she’s writing her own books word for word.
Not a word, not a word.

And out of the sky comes a cloud of broken glass.
It cuts through our eyes like stiletto dust.
Pillagers, scavengers, money-ridden swarms.
Vultures dressed in corporate grins numb us back to sleep.
Out of the sky comes a cloud of broken glass.

What’s that noise?
It’s the appendix of the bats inside their throat.
This is what happens when you leave us with no choice,
no rights, no vocal cords. This ship has been sinking since it left shore!

You can sell all your children, they’ll travel the world.
Make your own truth and swallow it whole.
You can trademark affection, Xerox your soul.
The only thing you’ll never know is love.