Wartime

Down at the altar of life, you raise your head to the sky and wonder: What is all this worth? What is all this fighting for worth? Why do you resist? Why don’t you give up your special interests and just lock your head and be total average? Why don’t you become afraid of the same things like everybody else? Why don’t you listen to the same mainstream sources and let them tell you what is right and what is wrong? What makes it so hard for you to just marry, reproduce, hold down a job and simply consume?
What is the thrill that you get from rejecting all this?

Quietly, powerless, submissive, tired and exhausted, the answer sounds: "Because the life that the nymph promised always was the more auspicious and more intensive one."

We met
in a place where you don't get,
doubting souls,
not accepting the way the world all spins around,
thunderbolt,
united by someone's death, apprentice hounds,
young and naive,
different, but still same species

But then
came darkened clouds,
one holy day,
shady, proud,
one drove us away,
with him came fiends,
so dark you don't want to meet them at night,
robbed all the sense,
split all everything in fights

(Break)

Chorus:
Ever since then...
Never again
words of "you're okay",
"you are right",
"don't let them get you!",
"they all don't understand",
scattered into all directions,
it took out all the kind connections,
lost a voice,
lost a belief,
today all live everywhere
and nowhere

Sometimes
you don't know
was it intend or accident?
That effect,
kids all ripped themselves to rags!
Someone playing insect,
threatening his opponents,
what did they do?
Seemingly catch the wrath of his true path!

Just for that,
he punished us all,
holy crusade,
acting tall,
swung 'round the blade,
deviation not in his concept,
when all was destroyed,
he fucked off in his own little place,
leaving with all his unalloyed!

(Break)

Chorus

(in powerful voice; more aggressive synth, 1st line sung, 2nd one spoken/shouted in turns):

Don't tell me it wasn't the purpose
in the first place!
Don't tell me it didn't benefit
anything in the big space!

(4/4 beat setting in)

Something going hot topic,
superiors silencing you,
people finding the logic,
infecting other people too,
on the verge of an audience
and then, bursting the zoo?

Don't tell me it doesn't look like it...
Don't tell me it doesn't look like it...

(Break)

2 x Chorus

(whispered while ending music):
Wherever you are...

---

Musical genre: past 2005 Progressive House, Hard Trance (Electronic)

Fat text - Voice goes up, becomes more powerful
Cursive text - Annotations about the music / vocals

This song was written for a male voice.

Brain stop!
What did you get me in this vexation?

You make me bad,
you bring me trouble,
counselors and schooling pack,
you make me double

The world is sane,
what I have to see
what I do is strange,
it's mocking me

(Break)

I deserve what's happening to me ("me" elongated)

Chorus:
Roaring folks behind me
and they call:
We hunt you, we gonna find you!
We eat you, we gonna whip you!
And if we have you, we gonna kill you!

Fresh start,
I could be happy in salvation!

Another view,
another life,
no troubles with you,
I'll stay alive

Friends are mine,
a mate for me,
family backs up my spine,
and I got jobs to be

They see right up the lie in me ("me" elongated)

(Break)

Chorus

Chorus2:
Bitch, you! - We gonna get you!
Hack you, we gonna grind you!
And set you, we gonna crush you!

(Instrumental passage of chorus music)

I can't
I bring it
To cherish my conviction
The sounds,
I'm sinning,
my brightest malediction,
you've found
I did it,
to serve this vile addiction

I could be happy in salvation...

Chorus

Chorus2

We hate you, we gonna stop you!
Pest, you! We gonna hang you!
And end you, we gonna shame you!

Oh, I'm the devil alive...

(longer instrumental passage; music the same as for introduction of verses)

---

Musical genre: Trance / Hardtrance (Electronic)

Cursive text: Annotations about music / vocals

Große Ohren kommen,
wenn man meint, dass du das Falsche denkst,
wenn du die falschen Leute kennst,
wenn du dich in den falschen Kreisen herumtreibst,
und Briefe an die falschen Personen schreibst,
wenn man meint, du hast etwas zu verstecken,
eventuell sogar kräftig Dreck am Stecken,
wenn du die falsche Einstellung hegst,
und du die falschen Gewohnheiten pflegst,
die falschen Bücher liest
und die falschen Filme siehst -

Man sagt dann,
du hast dich der falschen Gruppe angeschlossen,
den falschen Lebenslauf beschlossen,
du bist ein Feind unserer Demokratie,
leidest an Megalomanie,
du musst weg, auf der Stelle!
ab in eine dunkle Zelle,
Wir helfen dir wieder ganz zu sein!
zurück zum schönen Schein,
mit Tabletten und leeren Worten
aus allerhand von Sorten -

Was, du willst nicht?!
Ach, wie kann das sein!
Bist du ein dummes Schwein!
Du willst unsere Liebe nicht,
siehst die Dinge nicht aus unserer Sicht
Raus mit dir, verpiss dich!
Mach doch rüber, da versteht man dich!
Ach nein, das geht ja nicht mehr,
und überhaupt, wollen wir deinen Verstand so sehr,
es gibt nur den einen Weg
und zwar den, auf dem wir alle steh'n!

Große Ohren werden kommen
und sie werden dich mitreißen wie eine Welle...
Tritt auf der Stelle,
oder versteh', was um dich geschieht,
wenn sich eine Welt die Wahrheit zurechtbiegt,
wirst du es kaum erkennen,
nichts bewegt sich durch herumflennen
und nichts bewegt sich, wenn du nur herumschreist,
die einen gehen anderen gern auf den Geist,
die anderen lernen bevor sie tun,
und erfahren, es braucht etwas mehr bevor sie ruhen.

Hardstyle Overlord tells you a tale

There was a kid,
fucked up for a bit,
they tried to put it to hell

Fo-Fo-Fo - For all its life,
for all amount of time,
they picked on it,
spit on it,
taught it what fear was like,
low self-esteem,
battery,
can you imagine this?

Then you come along, speak the wrong,
and wonder what makes it snap back at you?
No miracle pills help,
no cruel punishment,
in matter of change -
what do you think you can correct this?

Chorus (sung):
You know how it feels?
You know how it feels?

They wanted to change me,
but it's all that I've felt,
raging in me, the reaction to yourselves

(octave higher)
All they could tell me is how bad I am,
nobody's seen me, the past glow in my eyes

What they offer you is a whole hard lot of scam,
in the end they lead to the more that somebody dies,
they have no idea what it means to withstand,
and they got not idea what it means to awake in a sea of lies

Hardstyle Overlord goes on with the tale

Got the kid,
worked on it,
they tried to put it away

Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo-Fo - Found its way to the violence,
suicide,
homicide,
didn't stick to the silence,
what a cry,
humans die,
can you feel the madness?

Then you come on by, speak so sly,
and wonder what gets it back at you?
Your treatments don't help,
you build your pack of innocence!
in matter of change -
what do you think you can correct this?

Chorus

SOMETHING's wrong with the world and I can feel it,
SOMETHING's playing tricks on me and I can't heal it,
SOMEONE told me to be good again so I can reel it,
This SOMEONE lives in a world I can't deal with

Social workers, they tell you what you should be,
doctors get sent to poke around in your life,
policemen shake heads to that you can still be free

You learn that it's not a question of the time,
your world is a mess and
I've fucking seen it,
you got no answers in hand, but
still you want to see me fit

I was happy if I was a teen that
didn't know right from wrong!

Hardstyle Overlord

No-one to trust,
only adjust,
they betray you,
thinking "this will do",
lock you in cage,
writing on page,
anxiety hype -
gosh, he has a fucking knife!!

They're coming,
they're coming,
they're coming to get me!!
They're coming,
they're hunting,
they're wanting to fetch me!!
Black UFOs over my head -
they're coming to get me!!

Chorus reprise

(little faster, more like rap / going-insane talk)
SOMETHING's wrong with the world and I can feel it,
SOMETHING's playing tricks on me and I can't heal it,
SOMEONE told me to be good again so I can reel it,
This SOMEONE lives in a world I can't deal with

---

Musical genre: Mixed Hardstyle / Hard Trance (Electronic)


Markings:

fat text - second voice
cursive - both voices

Your teachers are bought,
your ideals indoctrinated,
the ones you worship - fake as hell!
And not even those ones who kill themselves
sometimes are what you think they are.

Be it conservative
or be it progressive,
the system corrupted all of it,
you're being guided,
not led into the future!
Someone makes sure
you do not get in his way.

Paroles of the past do not work in the present.
They try to make you believe so to keep your mind caged.
To make you avoid finding a new trick. Finding a new rule.
Use your own mind!
Question yourself!
Find out by sorting out the facts from the fairy tales!

And throw away your old idols!
Kill your old idols!
Get some which appear authentic!
University and advocate groups are for control.
Real humans make mistakes. -
And they rage too much.

Plätscher, plätscher
tropf, tropf
Ich habe keine Aussage
und ich kenne keinen Reim
Ich will auf den Gletscher,
doch habe nichts im Kopf
Wenn ich zu texten wage,
erbricht sich der Urschleim.
Nicht wie ein Metzger,
sondern wie ein Kropf,
mein Text ist wie die Tage -
Inhalt finden - nein.

Ich texte wie ich spreche
und wie ich spreche ist Quahl.
Prägnantes findet man selten,
Kunst ist verkommen zur heißen Ware.
Egal wie viel sie auch blechen,
sie bekommen keinen gehärteten Stahl,
und die wenigen, die mich schelten,
die kommen auf die Bahre.
Und dann prelle ich noch die Zeche,
jeden Tag dasselbe Mahl.
Lassen sie's noch lange gelten,
oh wie schön hab' ich die Haare!

Kunst kommt von Können
und bedarf der regelmäßigen Übung,
alle, die etwas anderes erzählen,
wollen dich nur als Sklaven.
Willst du dir selbst etwas gönnen,
schrei nicht "Schiebung!",
lerne Worte zu wählen,
und gehöre nicht zu den Braven.
Schreibe nicht, was andere ersönnen,
erkenne auch die Biegung,
versuche dich auch nicht zu vermählen
mit den Beschlüssen von Konklaven.

Neue Reime braucht das Land,
seine Schreiber sind ein Graus,
inhaltsleere Worte,
dazu noch ohne Plan.
Wie Graffiti-Sprüher an die Wand,
so klingt das aus ihnen heraus,
wie Massensporte,
ohne wirklichen Elan.
Sie hätten es in der Hand,
doch sie machen nichts daraus,
da reimt sich schon mal "Torte"
genau auf "Massenwahn".

They draw borders on the moon,
borders on mars,
property in bloom,
when do they take the stars?
Anytime they draw them in the sky,
errect traffic lights,
call that "freedom of mine"
and still tell me "join the fights".

Even the mountains they turn into tourist attractions,
shift change on the roof of the world,
space enthusiasts can live their affections
as long as money is their word.
Doesn't matter if they're sick,
if they're old or half-past death,
bigness can buy every kick,
and fuel on all fantasies in their heads.

The world is an amusement park
for humans of all shades,
beware if someone starts to bark,
that's not calculated in their plays.
A golden cage, pretending thrills,
the last trial to escape is meth,
but drugs don't work, it kills
the cognition is solid, adventure is dead.

I sit
and I will be rewarded.

I shut up
and I will be praised.

I write,
but I stop.

Is this
going to drive them away?

Will they
even listen to what I say?

I am
afraid.

I ain't
no fighter on the ground.

Shamefully reminded
that a pencil is not a gun.

What is it
that I can do?

Type: Short story
Rating: 18+
Disclaimer: All original content. All fictional.


Running water circles around my fading skin. It flows through my hair, cooling me with waves that pulsate through the bearing mass. My mouth and my lungs do not resist to take it inside, making it gain control of my whole inner life.
It's like I've become a fish. I can survive down here, the lake gives me everything I need. And the algas and bacteria keep me clean of pollution.
Some time ago, I used to walk under the sun, but now it's nothing that I need anymore.
Either if it's dark or light, my face won't change. Even better I stay in the dark because the sun would burn it. The water won't preserve it either, because it can't stop the process of rot, but sun and high temperature will make it even go faster.
There's nothing I can do anymore - but at least I won't be alone.
Comrade M. lies next to me, his face touches my knee, and S. and E., who fought with us, don't lie far away. There are lots of others whose names I don't know and which brigade they fought in, but I guess, as we're in the same boat, we will make a good family.
Shame that we have no women here, but for sure, the comrades from the outside sooner or later will take care of it.
...My wound still aches and I think I have already seen a worm come through it.
Assault rifle fire. Pierced me a few times, I dropped immediately, and not a second later I could feel the blood running out of me.
Everything turns numb when you die, like when your arm or leg is falling asleep.
Perhaps this was due to losing my life-juice all over the place, but the same way, I imagine it happens anyway, also when you die from natural causes. It only happens a bit slower.
S. and E. didn't get it that well as me, they died in grenade launcher fire. It burned the whole of their faces and partly even their uniform was flared off their chests, which were charred to coal as well.
I can still hear their screams, even though I know they're alright now.
Must have been a terrible way to die; the street didn't look like it was there to drive on. The vehicle they occupied was destroyed as well.
I wonder what happened to the few of us who could get out alive. Did they run back to the base or were they captured? Did they hide in the bush and managed to shoot some of our enemies? Or were they eventually killed on the run, just like our kind?
I'm only sorry for not seeing my mom again. She will cry a lot when she hears that I've been killed in action.
I'm the youngest of three brothers, my siblings are also in this war too. She hasn't heard in months what has happened to them, where they've been or if they're actually still alive.
That's been as they came and conscripted me.
I'm sorry for her...
The muddy water still keeps blowing softly against my face. A thin layer has settled on my skin. Small little animals, of which I can see half of them.
Soon I will look like a balloon, and then one after another my flesh will melt 'til there's nothing left of me except my bones. Even my clothes will vanish, as far as they can be degraded by Mother Nature.
There will be nothing left of me, and if not the one who threw me in here kept track of that I lie in this place, no-one will ever know this is the spot where I've stayed.