Cold Room Volumes


Strawberry Vibes





Cold Room Volumes

Technicolour Sunset Hour
Human Bone Trumpet Serenade.
Muezzin prays east.
Pray: Allah!
From where the Government rises
on Mondays and Tuesdays, too.
Meat Day
Blood dripples from the Sky.



Eat Meat, Baby
Feed your Veins
Feed your Heart
on Whale Fardistance
Communication Serenades.



Helicopter approaches
from behind the radiated fences.
Street erased from Memory.
United Barrack Streets
of Dogworld.
Cockroaches smell
Streetbloodtemple Guitama Gold Glasses.



Eat Meat, Baby
Feed your Veins
Feed your Heart
on Whale Fardistance
Communication Serenades.



Cold Room Volumes
burst your Inner Ear.
King Andrew
walks Barrack Street Gutters.
His Human Bone Trumpet blows
No Meat/No Drug Interferences
in my Leatherheart scenario allowed. -



Eat Meat, Baby
Feed your Veins,
feed your Heart
on Whale Fardistance
Communication Serenades.




Strawberry Vibes

I want strawberries in winter
just to match the colour of my lips.
When I kiss you I always miss
something but I don't know what.



I´m always in love with a faraway land
searching for a faraway man
tumbling through the outside world
like an open razor blade
talking like a machine gun
taking my revenges by silence.

One day I will get myself a wild horse
ride it to the end of the continent
and search the whole entire world
for my faraway dreamland



Please, don't tell me that
I will still be here next winter.


LEIPZIG D.C.
(gewidmet den Bewohnern der ehemaligen DDR)

Deutschland 9.11.1989

Heim ins Reich
über die Mauer mit Gegröhle
werden geführt
des wüsten Feindes Opfer.



Die Sterne gekippt
und die Taler gehißt.
Kassen klingeln
und die Pfeffersäcke halten sich
die Bäuche vor Lachen
bis es ihnen vergeht.
Bananen für die Zombies
und den Champagner
den trinken wir!



Keines Traumes Spiegelbild
wird in der Wirklichkeit bestehen,
wenn wir nicht die Versprechen einlösen,
die wir als Gastgeschenk gebracht...
Die alte Hure Freiheit, ausgelutscht,
verklagt den Westen wegen Zechprellerei!
...an seiner Wirklichkeit.







You can feel the beating

Lady J. calls me in the morning to tell me that
in China they are shooting now.
We both cry helplessly.



Ti Pau was a chinese soldier
who never thought in his entire life
and when one morning he got the order
to go!
He went on his tank
didn´t ask where and didn't ask why.



Stop to cry!
You can feel the beating.



The old man's last fart of agony
contaminates the atmosphere.
Ti Pau doesn't see, nor doesn't hear
pumping blood and cracking bones.
He couldn-t smell the student's last fart.
A simple strong desire enters his brain
it was:destroy



Morning papers, people crying
sign says - STOP KILL PEOPLE!!
World utters unwill- old man you're gone too far
to send your own army against your own people
that's WAR!



Faking sanctions for one day.
The world is full of old men dying
who try to kill everyone who might stay alive
and their last farts are stinking.







America is a Virus

that canalizes our perceptions
to definitely determine
our intelligence and morals.
The all american boy
all muscles, all smile
says - do you like my muscle?
Could you stand my smile?



baila nena,
que la guerra duerme en la sombra
no ceses tus pasos
para que no se despierte



baila mi nena
que la vida suspira
en las llamas de las candelas
no ceses tus pasos
para que no se exstingan
no ceses tus pasos
!baila!



America is a Virus
hitting it's claws into
the universal brain.
The all american girl
when she smiles
you see the ass of America
kiss it or die.
She decides what you need
a soul whereever for
and who´s american at all.



baila nena,
que tu amante te espera
afuera en la noche
no ceses tus pasos
para que la muerte no se lo lleve



America is a Virus
dull arrogance versus
oldfashioned non-vulgarity
find myself hating children
for having learned their
lesson oh so well.
They are like monitors
and they are dangerous.
Coming closer
to the Mexican border
that´s where the evil
is the bloodred darkness,
where Daddy won´t rule no more.



baila nena
hasta que el continente entero
esté en llamas
que la vida arde la sombra
cace la guerra de los rincones
que la nieve cubra las tumbas
el soplo del fuego se las lleve
! en llamas América!
hasta que la muerte
ya no sea tu amante...
baila nena
la ceniza del continente.



America is a Virus
that has already infected future ages
while Europe is a bug on it´s back
desperately struggling
to get back on it´s feet again
desperately trying to follow
while Mexico is constantly growing blood
til Daddy won´t rule no more
til Daddy won´t rule no more



baila nena,
que los muertos ya no sufren
no ceses tus pasos
para que ya no sufras
baila mi nena
que los muertos ya no sufren




The Fist

I went to hell three times
I went to meet my death
but she didn't want me
I went to the sea to drown my love
but still I find no rest.



Still I got my hands in my pockets
clenched to a fist
Still I run my head up against the wall
Still I got the flag of rebellion
hissed upon my front door
Still I find myself drinking in downtown bars
always coming back for more
hoping like a fool
talking like a coward
and stealing away like a thief.



Sad like a bird that burned her ship.



If I walk one step backwards I would find
there's no wall at all.
Just another day I find myself chained to hope
oh such a pain!
for love like salvation
my rise like a phoenix from the ashes ...
if I'd walk one step backwards
I'd find there is no hope at all
no need for salvation at all
and I'd sail away forever more.




Here comes trouble
they say,
when she walks in the door,
as she's always asking for a quarter, a dime or more
then she's drinking a bottle of the cheapest wine
and then she's talking
- it's many years ago I left my home,
with five children creeping down on the floor they were sucking on me.
My Mama she told me
- girl, you got to open your legs, but keep your pride
­so I kept my pride that very day
when I saw my man come out of my neighbour's door.
She said - Baby, will you soon be back for more?
­That very day I left my town
with only the bag of the supermarket
and the change in my pockets.



Don't ask me where I've been all these years
I have been drinking.
One day the Lord he told me that
- girl, you're not gonna be blind anymore-
and I suddenly could see all the hearts on the sidewalk.
One day I found the one of a man who used to drink here
for dinner. I wrapped this thing into a paper and brought
it up to him. When he opened it he screamed -
this woman is insane - and then they brought me to this
beautiful white place and I thought I was going home that day.
And then I combed my hair for the Lord.



Next morning instead they kicked me out of the door again
saying - woman, you're not mad enough to be insane. -


Zucker

Sie schreitet durch die Scherben der gläsernen Schleier,
die Lufträume zu Kerkem verdichtenden Weben.
Aus den am Boden klebenden Zuckerhäusern dröhnt
gackerndes Koboldgelächter aus garstigen Kehlen
quellend,neckend,spottend
vernichtend ihre Schwäche zu verhöhnen.
Zertritt sie den ersten Haufen glitzernder Kristalle,
stieben sie wild davon kichernde kackbraune Angstgesichter, grimassierend ihre Furcht verlachend.
Strafe muß sein fur Rebellion



gegen Gottes fromme Sklaven, die des Weibes Leib verlangen
als Tribut fur ihre Macht, wenn sie lustig nagend
seine letzten Knochen peinlich sauber hinter sich schleudern, lauthals rülpsen,
während vor ihnen das nächste Opfer einen Striptease macht.
Zerrte sie an ihren Ketten hörte sie die Peitsche zischen.
Flammen züngeln, die Brauen leckend, sodaß Augen maronengleich
verkohlt den Herren zum Dessert geboten
süßer schmeckten Kastanien nie.
Das Leben mit den Füßen tretend dem Gotte der Zerstorung
frönen sie, dem Gott der Selbstkasteiung.
Seiner Kinder Rücken blutig streichelt er sanft.
Für jede liebevoll verfickte Nacht muß ein Weib sein Leben lassen.
Die alte Hure Babylon ist ihrer aller Mutter.
Strafe muß sein für Rebellion



wenn Weiber eine Seele tragen, in der ein kornvoll Ahnung ruht,
daß einst die Herren ihre Sklaven kriechend Säcke zur Mühle getragen, als Hand der Schwerter und Lust der Damen.
Verlacht das Gehänge, der Zipfel, der sich so machtvoll
aufgeplustert protestierte gegen seine Wenigkeit.



Greift sie knirschenden Zuckerstaub sich das Gesicht zu weißen,
reibt sie sanft die mikroben Splitter in zarte kleine Mädchenhaut,
leckt sie gierig die giftigen Klumpen
und kotzt, und kotzt den Haß der Herren, den Haß der Damen,
den giftigen Qualm ihrer schleimigen Begierden,
die ihr reines Herz verführt.
Ihre jungfraulichen Eingeweide verrenken sich in geilen Krämpfen.



Tod,
er soll ihr Geliebter werden,
bis auf den blanken Knochen sie heiß umarmen, der einzige, der ihren Blütenkörper je berührt.
Strafe muß sein
für alle die ihren Leib begehren für ihren Leib den gierigen
für jeden kleinen Zuckerkuß.







-Katrin Achinger
-Matthias Arfmann
-Rüdiger Klose (drums)
-Sabine Worthmann (bass)

no fear of JAVA SCRIPT!

(we are nice people, no bad intententions)