1. |
Virus
02:19
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the glass is broken, containers open
but no pill gets rid of this pain
this city will succumb to our virus
a highly evolved new strain
these times deem our measures extreme
but part by part we'll break the machine
and the virus is the cure
if you insist we'll penetrate the system
from now on we'll work from within
too discrete for secret surveillance
whatever the trend, we'll blend in
tainted data will become pristine
and part by part we'll break the machine
and the code is the cure
I wanna be anarchy, how rude of me
a pirate who opens the source
guilty as charged, we’re pretty vacant
we’re thieves, we show no remorse
our perfect knowledge will reign supreme
and part by part we'll break the machine
and the cure is the cure
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2. |
1000 Years
02:46
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your economy smells like me
precious stones and oil wars on TV
reputation won’t pay our bills
but my voice and my body will
and when your history ends
I’ll start all over again
I’ll still be here a thousand years from now,
a thousand times around the sun
a sequel to history, much better than history part one
Is this live, are you here to shop
watch me dance on this tabletop?
back in the cave at the dawn of time
I was throwing pearls before swine
and when your history ends
I’ll start all over again
I’ll still be here a thousand years from now,
a thousand times around the sun
a sequel to history, much better than history part one
my day may or may not come
but I feel hungry sometimes
give me a pen or at least a sword
I got no owner, no lord
I’ll still be here a thousand years from now
I’ll still be here ten thousand years from now
I’ll still be here a million years from now
I work my body with all my might
with all the proletarians of the night
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3. |
Class War
02:55
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In the pouring rain, cameras flash blue over our heads
cop vans and fast cars stumble into the canal
I’m the hustler across the bridge
in my bulletproof limousine
Who put class war on hold?
Who said old grudges die hard?
I’m the villain on the TV screen
let my misery comfort you now
The match factory girl is coming for you
weekly thunderstorms drown the fire
the rich are only safe in a wet summer
I climb the thirty steps up the fire escape
and all the way to the top of the water tower
the city fans out below me
a perfect riot scene
Who put class war on hold?
Who said old grudges die hard?
I’m the elevator operator
it’s going down
The match factory girl is coming for you
weekly thunderstorms drown the fire
the rich are only safe in a wet summer
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4. |
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I’m a comic book from a bargain bin
I’m a superheroine and a supervillain
I press my lips against the sky
the sunset is all smeared around my mouth
I’m a pirate radio show on your car stereo
pump up the volume roll down the window
take this energy of mine
call it electricity
Kiss me now for the very first time
right here in the street, let everyone see
you’ve made it this far, it’s time to disarm
I’m a cold war spy flick, foreign accents and flat heels
I walk the party line, don’t care how you feel
too large for the Earth
our difference soar to the stars
messages flowing fast
you give me your truth at last
somewhere beyond the signs
I still read between the lines
Kiss me now for the very first time
right here in the street, let everyone see
you’ve made it this far
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5. |
Machine Gun Roses
01:25
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Before the end of time, yours and mine
I’ll give a clear sign while we are in our prime
when I go to sleep I make my river bed
I’m no rose, I’m fading to gray
color so deep I’m no longer red
All the machine gun roses carefully grown
all of them one supposes all of them thrown
thrown into the river
seems like happiness will happen next
ain’t no rain cloud while we are underground
there’s so much water here, see it flow
I’m no rose, I’m engineered to stay employed
as your favorite toy
All the machine gun roses carefully grown
all of them one supposes all of them thrown
thrown into the river
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6. |
Hate My Job
02:12
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I wear a silk dress and a lambskin coat,
not a stitch belongs to me and that’s all right
got bags full of snake oil money to deliver today
I hate my job, hate my job
but wait and see, wait and see
tomorrow is a can of kerosene
at night I rest my bones in someone else’s bed
and the rent is paid
come morning my boss is in the news again
I hate my job, hate my job
but wait and see, wait and see
tomorrow is a can of kerosene
with nothing to offer but my round face and my pride
I’ll take your money, take your naked time
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7. |
Time
02:14
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The strongest link will snap loose and the brightest day will fade
I touched your cheek and it felt like the flat side of the blade
My eyes are silver in this light, I don’t even blink
You’re out of sync now, you won’t have time to think
Once again, time is out of joint
cool to the touch, you’ll reach the boiling point
A barbarian at the turnstile, I always pay my fare
my kingdom for a ticket to the middle of nowhere
od blještavog centra grada do tajanstvene periferije
sa tropskom gozbom u šatoru čekaš me
I’ll give you all I have honey, my vinyl and my rhymes
brass buckles and paperbacks, my attention and my time
Once again, time is out of joint
cool to the touch, you’ll reach the boiling point
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8. |
1999
03:37
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I wonder what flashed before your eyes
the last time you took a breath of air in this world
did some saints in plain disguise
take you or leave you cold and curled up
on the bed of nails you built on the sly
with a nail or two that I supplied
I lost the language I don’t even try
to remember the words we used instead of goodbye
I remember the years you lived on a shoestring
with four bass strings, your soul too young to cling
to the past as it burns as the century turns
one late afternoon you flew in from the west
hoping that you were right on time
but the land you dreamed of ceased to exist
after the countdown at the end of eighty-nine
maybe I’ll see you again when this life fades
maybe you won’t be so blue
or long for narrow streets of Belgrade
where languid young women fall for you
I remember the years you lived on a shoestring
with four bass strings, your soul too young to cling
to the past as it burns as the century turns
that black leather jacket on those frail shoulders of yours
the morning you left the “Old World” one final time
and where did I go? I disappeared of course
In a tunnel under construction in nineteen ninety-nine
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9. |
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