Revolt

by Artificial Eyes

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about

LP out on Knock Out Records (KOLP232) / Artificial Eyes Records (AER001)

www.artificialeyes.de
www.facebook.com/AEPunk

credits

released September 14, 2012

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all rights reserved

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Artificial Eyes Stuttgart, Germany

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Track Name: Revolt
Clocks go slow in a place of work. Minutes drag and the hours jerk. But anyway the lunch bells ring. Take
one hour and do your thing. Get back to work and sweat some more. The sun will sink and we’ll get out
the door. It’s no good for man to work in cages. Hits the town, he drinks his wages.

Revolt! Revolt! From Garageland westway to the world. Give ‘em
enough rope! Brixton on the airwaves around the globe.

What do we have for entertainment? Cops kickin’ gypsies on the pavement. Now the news – snap to
attention. The lunar landing of the dentist convention. Gimme Honda and gimme Sony. It’s so cheap and
real phony. Move yourself to go again, like cowboys do in T.V. land
Revolt! Revolt! From Garageland westway to the world. Give ‘em
enough rope! Brixton on the airwaves around the globe.
A car in the fridge Or a fridge in the car? My daddy was a bankrobber. Police on my back, english civil
war. Clang, clang go the jail guitar doors.
Track Name: Control
I hate this ugly monster, and i hate its 1000 eyes.
Security! Security is the devil in disguise.
You can’t see if it’s hungry, you can’t see if it sleeps.
You should always be careful, you can’t do as you please.

Security! Supremacy! Security! The Threat for you and me

Artificial, artificial. artificial eyes – they are everywhere!
Artificial, artificial. artificial eyes – they are everywhere!
Control all over, all over again. There is no place for freedom in Big-Brother-Land.

It has too many helpers, it has too many friends.
They protect it all the time if someone is against it.
Jump to the left, jump to the right,
it’s always there behind you, even if it’s out of sight.

Security! Supremacy! Security! The Threat for you and me

Artificial, artificial. artificial eyes – they are everywhere!
Artificial, artificial. artificial eyes – they are everywhere!
Control all over, all over again. There is no place for freedom in Big-Brother-Land.

Control all over, all over again. There is no place for freedom.
Control!

Forget about the Underground – artificial eyes.
Forget about your privacy – artificial eyes.
I wish i was invisible – artificial eyes.
We’re not free though nobody’s here – artificial eyes.

Control, control, control, control.
Control, control, control, control.
Control, control, control, control.
Control, control, control, complete control.
Track Name: A.F.A.
Action, action action! Antifascist action!
United as one, wir sind immer noch da!

Fascho-Konzerte in meiner Stadt,
Nazis im Stadion, ich hab’s so satt.
Thor Steinar trinkt sein Bier in meiner Bar,
ich will nicht dass es wird wie es schon mal war.

Hör nicht auf zu schreien!
Bleib immer laut und sei dabei!
Ob Skinheads, Punks oder Hardcore Kids,
always antifascist!

Action, action action! Antifascist action!
United as one, wir sind immer noch da!

Widerstand! Nicht nur ein Wort.
Der kleinste Schritt zählt, an jedem Ort.
Um mich herum, bereits aufgegeben, zu viele sind stumm.
Zusammenhalt! Die Hände in den Himmel zur Faust geballt!

Grenzen werden aufgeweicht,
Geld wäscht braunes wieder weiß.
Doch wir glauben euren Lügen nicht,
hier ist Schluß uns kriegt ihr nicht!

Action, action action! Antifascist action!
United as one, wir sind immer noch da!

Angriffe auf unsere Konzerte – so kriegt ihr uns nicht klein!
Zerstörte Geschäfte und Schaufensterscheiben – so kriegt ihr uns nicht klein!
Und deshalb: Keine Toleranz und keine Freiräume!
Nein, nein, nein, nein!
Keine Toleranz und keine Freiräume!
Niemals, nein, neeeeein!

Action, action action! Antfascist action!
United as one, wir sind immer noch da!
Track Name: Still Not Loving
I’m still not loving the boys in blue.
„They are just doing their job.“ No! That’s not what they do!

I’m still not loving the way they perform.
They think they were John Wayne in uniform.

I’m still not loving the B.F.E. (their riot squad)
Nazis protect nazis, we are on the run.

They are the law.
They can do as the please.
I’m still not loving the police.
I’m still not loving, I’m still not loving, I’m still not loving the police!

I still don’t love how you treat me.
You try to beat me down, come on and shoot at me.

I still don’t love the way you talk to me.
That’s the reason for my shirt with the „A.C.A.B.“

I still don’t love when you play with me,
good cop, bad cop, i know you like that, but you can not impress me.

They are the law.
They can do as the please.
I’m still not loving the police.
I’m still not loving, I’m still not loving, I’m still not loving the police!

The Police, The Police, Police, Police, Fuck the police!
Track Name: J.F.K.
Bullet holes on the pavement. Lies, lies, lies in the papers.
Now it’s time to say: my baby shot J.F.K.
Now it’s time to say, now it’s time to say, now it’s time to say:
my baby shot J.F.K.

My baby is a superhero,
immortal, from planet 54Zero.
In the 60s they had a training camp,
in the middle of Dallas, that was so strange.

They tested this gun – the „Ultra Blaster“,
top secret, bullets became so much faster.
It was an accident, it was a mistake,
she said sorry, but it was too late.

Bullet holes on the pavement. Lies, lies, lies in the papers.
Now it’s time to say: my baby shot J.F.K.
Now it’s time to say, now it’s time to say, now it’s time to say:
my baby shot J.F.K.

My baby is a superhero,
immortal, from planet 54Zero.
She can do all those superhero things,
you should run when she says „Get in the ring!“.

She’s so hot and she’s so cute,
but when she takes a gun that’s not so good.
Long odds to become a gunslinger,
because of that missing middle finger.

Bullet holes on the pavement. Lies, lies, lies in the papers.
Now it’s time to say: my baby shot J.F.K.
Now it’s time to say, now it’s time to say, now it’s time to say:
my baby shot J.F.K.
Track Name: Rude Boys
Ultra smart clothes and short cropped hair,
concrete jungle, they don’t care.
Shake hands with the bouncer, this is your club.
Rude Boys Army – Fists up, fists up, fists up, fists up!

Rude boys, rude boys – in every town, in every town!
Reggae beats – and Two Tone sound.

I want a rude boy army back on the streets.
I want The Specials playing for you and me.
Madness, Madness – heavy monster sound.
We’re in Gangsterville, bullets all around.

Rude boys, rude boys – in every town, in every town!
Reggae beats – and Two Tone sound.

Damn! All those hip kids downtown,
Sporting ridiculous styles all round.
Our soundsystems will blow them away,
from Berlin to London, Kingston and L.A.

Rude boys, rude boys – in every town, in every town!
Reggae beats – and Two Tone sound.

Fists up, fists up, fists up, fists up!
Fists up, fists up, fists up, fists up!
Fists up, fists up, fists up, fists up!
Fists up, fists up, fists up, fists up!
Track Name: Is This Combat Rock
Who´s to blame – the rich or the poor?
Fight the enemy – fight the law.
Stick together – see it through.
We´re gonna riot – me and you!

Stock markets up – stock markets down – we pay for them
They drag us down – London’s burning – it’s burning now!

Police are running facing defeat.
Cities burning in the summer heat.
Is this combat rock or just another song?
See you in hell. Viva – la – revolution!

Colors on the street – red, white and blue.
People shuffling their feet – people sleeping in their shoes.
Don't feel like Satan – but I am to them.
So I try to forget it – any way I can.

Banks get protected – protected for what?
Why protect the problem – who protects us?
Why protect the problem – who protects us?

Police are running facing defeat.
Cities burning in the summer heat.
Is this combat rock or just another song?
See you in hell. Viva – la – revolution!

Street´s can burn – governments too.
We´re gonna riot – we´re gonna see it through.

Police are running facing defeat.
Cities burning in the summer heat.
Is this combat rock or just another song?
See you in hell. Viva – la – revolution!
Track Name: Black Flag
Watch out, watch out,
watch out, watch out!
If there’s a black flag waving.

We’re freebooters and we shout it out!

Now I tell you the story
of a long forgotten crew.
Be sure this is no fairy tale
every single word is true.

All dressed in black, angry and proud.
They captured the ships of the hated crown.
Black hulk, black sails – „(The) Shadow Of The Seas“
too fast for their enemies.

Let’s sing along,
to this little outlaw song.
No king, no god, no government,
just wind and waves and a bunch of friends.

So the crew was waiting,
day after day, very impatient,
for the call from the lookout:
„attack, attack, all hands on deck!“
Track Name: Freiheit
Neulich im Hafen in `ner Seemanns-Bar,
`n kühles Bier und `n Korn – alles klar.
Da setzt sich ein alter Kapitän neben mich,
was der alles erzählte, das glaubt ihr nicht.

Von selbstbestimmtem Leben
ohne Bürokraten und Verhaltensregeln
und dem Glück an diesem fernen Ort
und immer wieder dieses große Wort:

Freiheit und alte Seemannslieder!
Feuer! Feuer! Brennt die Paläste nieder!

Es klang so wunderschön und unglaublich zu gleich.
Er erwähnte nie Begriffe wie arm oder reich.
Dann fing auch noch Hans Albers an sich einzumischen.
Ich schaue auf zum Tresen, hör zwei neue Vasen zischen.

Und ich denke so bei mir:
in welchem scheiss System leben wir denn hier?
Ausgebeutet Tag für Tag,
und statt `ner Bonuszahlung nur ein Zeitvertrag.

Freiheit und alte Seemannslieder!
Feuer! Feuer! Brennt die Paläste nieder!

Ich will ein selbstbestimmtes Leben
ohne Bürokraten und Verhaltensregeln.
Ich will weg von diesem kalten Ort
und denke nur an dieses große Wort:

Freiheit und alte Seemannslieder!
Feuer! Feuer! Brennt die Paläste nieder!
Track Name: 1982
Can you hear the, hear the voices? Can you hear them shout?
The opposite of fashion! Hate and frustration all around.
This is more than, more than music, this is pure aggression,
because of unemployment and oppression.

82! 82!
No future for me, no future for you!
82! 82!
We are Punks and we hate you!
82! 82!
The kids don’t know what to do!
Oooohhhh Oooohhhh!
No future for you!

Falklands, Falklands on TV, test-tube babies (are) boring to see.
Maggie Thatcher (is) pulling the strings, (I) don’t wanna die in a factory.
Mohawks, mohawks, leather jackets, wherever you could be.
Oi!Oi!Oi! and Punkrock – bands just from the streets!

82! 82!
No future for me, no future for you!
82! 82!
We are Punks and we hate you!
82! 82!
The kids don’t know what to do!
Oooohhhh Oooohhhh!
No future for you!


No! No! ! No! ! No! ! No! ! No! ! No! ! No! Is there a future? Is there a future?
No! No! ! No! ! No! ! No! ! No! ! No! ! No! Is there a future? Is there a future?

82! 82!
No future for me, no future for you!
82! 82!
We are Punks and we hate you!
82! 82!
The kids don’t know what to do!
Track Name: White Noise
Hey - DJ - this song is for you.
Because 1977 – did tell the truth.
The right wing crap you're playing makes me scream and shout.
That's the reason why you hate me, because I say it loud!

My music my style but you don't care,
there are no ideals behind your spiky hair.
(You're) not a Punk, (You're) not punk, get out of my way!
(You're) not a Punk, Nazi-Punk - fuck off! Get out of my way!
Get out of my way! Get out of my way! Get out of my way!

I'm not - the one - who tells other people what to do.
But you're - the one - who thinks that RAC is cool.
Persey, Strummer and Ian Stuart together - (that) doesn't work.
Can't you see you're just a fucking stupid jerk!

My music my style but you don't care,
there are no ideals behind your spiky hair.
(You're) not a Punk, (You're) not punk, get out of my way!
(You're) not a Punk, Nazi-Punk - fuck off! Get out of my way!
Get out of my way! Get out of my way! Get out of my way!

I look at you, you look like me.
If I could have a look into your heart, what would I see?
Don’t need no white pride, and I don’t need you too.
You will never be like me, you’re just a fool!

My music my style but you don't care,
there are no ideals behind your spiky hair.
(You're) not a Punk, (You're) not punk, get out of my way!
(You're) not a Punk, Nazi-Punk - fuck off! Get out of my way!
Get out of my way! Get out of my way! Get out of my way!
Track Name: Lady Suicide
Lower Haight in San Francisco, Molotov’s, don’t need no disco. It’s P.B.R. and whiskey time, Punkrock
jukebox, we’re doin‘ fine. Endless summer at Mission Beach, cruisin‘ through San Diego streets. Perfect
time, nothing better to do, Rat City Riot at the Radio Room.

California sun, California sun! Punkrock, chicks, booze, so much fun.

Oh Hollywood you screwed my mind. See you again lady suicide.
Viva, viva, viva Las Vegas, party people, losers and winners. Fucking Caesar’s, fucking Belagio. The
Double Down – that’s where we go! Sunset, Hollywood Boulevard, Tiny’s K.O. between all the stars.
We’re in L.A. babe, we‘ve lost the ground. We`re flying high and we’ll never come down.