1. |
Troy A.D.
04:54
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You have lynched another one of God's sons after a trial flawed with unanswered questions. You continue this path, push things further. But out in the street they call it murder. The only certainty was doubt, ongoing doubt, a price to pay and someone to take the fall. For closure, the damage done. No matter innocence and all the clemency calls. They know what they are here for. Wearing their ties like gallows. We know what they are here for. Judge, jury, executioner. Stuck in your mediatized tunnel vision. Witnesses telling what the police pressured them to say. Hearing after hearing, but no one is listening. An uphill battle against a decision that has already been made: "guilty as charged". And from this death blossom a strange fruit grows, at the place where history runs deep and cruel. But throughout this land a different wind blows. Voices of outrage after what has been exposed. Oh, Georgia. They don't know what they do. They don't know we could all end like you. They don't know what they do. That if you lose, we all lose. Absence of a fair trial puts us all on trial. Our values, our humanity, all on trial. We are all on trial. A present still dictated by race and by class, by descent and welfare. We are all on trial and incarceration should be trialed. This system only serving a few. You are Troy and I am Troy. The clock is ticking, gates clanging. There is an unspoken wrongness dangling over his head. The biased sound of shackled footsteps sending us back in history. If there is any doubt the time to speak has come. Dead silence. "Let justice be done though the heavens fall." Watch what you wish for. If those trees could talk they would be singing of sorrow, of black bodies swinging in the southern breeze. 22 years. 11:08. Those southern trees bear a bitter crop for the sun to rot and for the crows to pluck.
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2. |
And Then There Were None
03:41
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They say that freedom is a constant struggle, a constant sorrow, a constant moaning, mourning, crying, dying. But these kids have been dying too often. A centuries old gospel talking about years and years of struggle. But singing is not going to fix this and neither is praying. As long as this crawls under our skin and runs our institutions. We all got used to this legalized violence of the police state we live in. Controlled and criminalized. Always under suspicion, never innocent. Police brutality and harassment reminding us that freedom does not come for free. One shot, two choked, three struck out. Collateral of the war on drugs. "Sit back quietly. No need to disrupt the peace." Four stopped, five popped, six beaten down. "Stay at home and out of the streets tonight." There is a war on kids that have nothing to lose but these ancient chains. Fuck. It is time to show your true colors. So this is what the American dream is supposed to look like, right? Our feed flooded with young bodies who lost their lives at the hands of a trigger-happy cop, here to “protect and serve”. But whose agenda is he serving, when he is only trained to kill? They shoot to kill. We have been waiting with our hands up in the park, playing cops. Waiting for the change we were promised, but has not come. We have been waiting through disappointment and disillusion. But I am done waiting on more body bags and more shootings. But you rather discuss the involvement of athletes in the protest movement. Whatever it takes to turn a blind eye and conserve your safe bubble. Complaining that actually “all lives should matter”. And when the media circus leaves town and the quiet has been restored, you can go back to your empty life, free of worry. But if next week another shooting makes the morning news, just remember that there will be no sleep, no peace, until we see justice.
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3. |
The Day After
04:28
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We are running blind. Unintended outcome of our time. Overstrung by the world outside. Going all out until it stops us from feeling, from thinking, from questioning. We are running blind. There is something in these streets, something we cannot see. Something behind those drawn curtains and closed doors. There is something off with the current atmosphere. Something has changed, but not for the better. I don't recognize these people. Their faces hard and unreadable. Working themselves to death for more debt. All suffering the weight of the world. And so we drink to drown out the noise. Swallow pills not to fall apart. Knowing we were lost from the start. As we are all born to die. But I cannot stand here and wait for what is to come. Living head down under your thumb, while this place becomes a ruin. Pity the living who do not really live. Pity the rich who do not know true love. I cannot stand here and wait for what is to come. And I cannot stand that you take what was never yours. In the darkness all alone sits the shadow king on his throne made of broken hope, abandoned dreams and dangling ropes. Mumbling desperately, pulling these strings, while the people crumble beneath his feet. Keep them at each other's throat, weak and out of hope, submissive and scared of what they don't know. And if they resist, if they speak up, crush their final hope forever. Until they remain silent. Rather rot than riot. They remain quiet. They rather rot than riot. Because here is no hope, only dangling ropes and people in line to use them. Is this what your democracy looks like? In the name of progress, in a world with endless possibilities? If this is your kind of change you better count me out. If this is your kind of change you can count me out. Count me out. You better count me out. You can count me out. You better count me out. Count me out.
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4. |
Mauersyndrom
02:59
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I keep on hitting these walls and I don't know what they want. They are trying to take me down. They are trying to keep me from. They are trying to keep me... You keep on building these walls through your choice of words, speak in terms of war. And I keep running into these walls. But I am falling apart and they are not. Near the point of no return. Freedoms hollowed out by scaremongering. For the illusion of security. But you are always there, always watching me. Until I am the one looking over my shoulder. Unsure if you are with or against me. How much longer will I be free? How much longer until me being free makes me the new enemy? Your walls are closing in on me. I am adopting your fear. Adapting to your strategy. It has been haunting me for weeks until I am overcome with anxiety and in need to flee. I cannot stand by doing nothing. Losing myself in this hopelessness. Losing my ability to breathe. Do we still understand what it means to be free or are we just another cog in this machine? We were taught to believe that the cage we live in, state we are in, is for our safety and a necessity to be free, to protect us from threats from the outside, a constant state of war. But this is where I draw the line. Read the writings on the wall before I take him down. Before I take you down. And it is going down. I keep on hitting these walls for the generations to come. Keep on hitting these walls until the last one falls.
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5. |
Never Grow Up!
03:09
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Grow up?! For the lost boys. For the dreamers of dreams. For youth. Because I still remember when we thought we could make a difference and were the advocates of change. But all that changed is that we changed and went our separate ways. So now I see you spend your days working hard, embittered. Guess youth was just a phase and you made your peace with it. But I remember those days, nights of living desperately. Trying to outlive our time. All so afraid of ordinary life. It seems like you have caught up this time. It must have been your price to pay. And even though it has been years, it still seems like yesterday we sang: never growing up, never growing old. Take me to Neverland, before I am out of happy thoughts. Never growing up, never to grow old. Because those who grow up eventually must go… And I don't know if I can do so. Part with the life I used to know. Bid farewell to the ones I used to love. That is something you cannot ask of me. I have seen it happen to you and what it turned you into. From the top of my lungs, the bottom of my beating heart. I cannot do this, was never meant to grow up. Now twenty something years old, but still a kid at heart. Twenty something years old, but still that kid at heart. Now twenty something years old, but still a kid at heart. Twenty something years old, but at heart I am still that kid. I am still that kid at heart.
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6. |
Tomorrow Never Knows
03:38
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To suddenly wake up realizing we have lost the core of our being, things that made us humane, the values we tend to uphold. Never forget how it began. Not with murdering millions but with supremacy, hate speech and persecution, to the point where it took the worst shape possible. A trail of blood in the mud. Tracks strewn with numbered bodies, silenced with a single shot. Here is no God. Solely dark streams of ashes, complete utter despair. Creeping. I feel it creeping. Creeping, like it is under our skin. Creeping. Still creeping. Like a sickness that destroys us from within. All hope is gone. Tearing the hair off their head, gold from their mouth, the kids from their womb. They are the living dead waiting to move on. Thousands and thousands marching to the place where the sky burns red. This is where it ends. The world is gone. Even though we are still here, there is nothing left for us. No words to express the contempt. No beauty, no significance. It all died shivering in its mother's final grasp.
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7. |
Last Remains
04:03
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I look at her but I don’t think she sees me. She is too far gone, gone from reality. Cannot go back. Cannot stand still. Time waits for no one and we are losing time. A vague reflection of the one she used to be. Oh, she would be so angry if she could only see what I see. I see her fading away. Lost inside a whirl of memories. And I can’t keep her sane. I can’t keep her safe. I see her fading away. Away from me. Away from this life. But I can't let go, don't leave me behind. Now she dances the way she used to dance. Holding out her hands. Reaching for long gone friends. And the moments of clearness are losing ground on the emptiness. And the light she once had shines no longer. I see her fading away. Lost inside a whirl of memories. And I can’t keep her sane. I can’t keep her safe. I see her fading away. Away from me. Away from this life. Never to return. Oh, I wish that I could tell you that... How much you mean to me. But in this moment I can't find the words to speak. I see you are losing your fight. But I cannot say goodbye. I really hope we meet again somewhere, somehow. She is falling away. She is falling. She is falling away. And all that remains are the stories once told, the moments shared. She is falling away. The last proof of a life once lived. She is falling away from me. She is falling away. She is falling. She is falling away. Will you please wait for me? She is falling away. Will I see you again? She is falling away from me. I will miss you.
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8. |
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Code red. Waking up the dead. Take it to the streets. We are in a state of emergency. Time to break through this generalized indifference. We are going to fight back. We are in a state of protest. What we carry in these hearts defines who we are. So this is how it starts. We are taking back what is ours. Something needs to happen. We cannot give in and risk losing a life worth living. Because all I see: a generation of frustrated kids, unions sold out, media sucked dry, opposition beaten down. All forced to fit this system that never cared for us. No, this is too much, we have had enough, we are fed up with this. So reap what you have sown. We will bite the hand that has been beating us. Never to conform. We will break the line and fuck the norm. This is a fucking movement. And you will come to understand your profit has a price and we are here to collect our change. What we carry in these hearts defines who we are. If there ever was a time to be awake. That time is now. Decide what you stand for. Get off your knees, get on your feet. Follow your heart, not the herd and break free. It is time to state our demands. Time we take a stand. As we stand here today we must acknowledge what is at stake. How can one percent keep 99 tamed? Our voices will be heard. The tide will be turned. We have paid the price for your fucking crisis, to see you look down on us. You better be warned: there will be no peace, until it is for everyone. You cannot tame what is in these hearts. No, you will never tame what we have in our hearts.
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9. |
Letters To The Past
04:15
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Dear old friend, I still remember when August all of a sudden felt like December. At seventeen, worrying, unhappy in the skin I wore too tight. Trying to remain unseen. So much chaos within. To the point where I didn't care to feel anymore. “Don't want to feel anymore.” My only friends were my demons, my enemies vultures. There to prey on me whenever I was at my lowest. I cried myself to sleep at night, so many times and I prayed to your God, asking him why. I cried myself to sleep at night, so many times. Confused and scared of the world outside. Angry and aware of what was going on. I still recall what they did to my brother. How they pushed him around and no one stood up for him. And I remember nearly losing my sister. How death came close and how that impacted her. I have been angry. I actually still am. And up until this day I question the true meaning of "friends". Still have a hard time forgiving, let alone forget. Right before I fall asleep I still hear them in my head. I cried myself to sleep at night, so many times and I prayed to your God, asking him why. I cried myself to sleep at night, so many times. Confused and scared of the world outside. Still living in yesterday. But this is who I am. This is who I am today. And today I am proud of who I became. I am fine being an outcast because I am done trying to fit in. Spent so much time living in the past. But now it is time. My time to start living. And I still cry myself to sleep at night, from time to time. But I gave up your God after a while. Still cry myself to sleep at night, from time to time. But at least I still feel something real. At least I, I still feel.
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10. |
Thoughts Of A Dying Man
03:57
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I have written and erased, been screaming and in tears. I wish I was any better at this, but I just sit here, my emotions taking the best of me. Wondering what I will leave. Although that is not a question I would like answered honestly. I rather run away than come to terms with my own fears. Because I am in fear. I fear wasting time. I fear a wasted life. My life flashing by. What if it is my time to go? Did I achieve enough? What if it is my time to go? I hope I have more time. And I know I have had time and that we are all dying men. But I cannot take this fate lightly. I just need to know. Does it hurt? What comes after this? If anything. Please, tell me there is something more. Because I am afraid. I am afraid that this time it will be my time. So scared to close my eyes. Tell me it is not my time to go, I can escape the inevitable. Tell me it is not my time to go. Say something comforting before I am gone. Just say something before I am gone. Will you remember me? Just say something. Will you remember me? Just say something. Will you remember me, please?
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11. |
D.E.A.T.H.
01:43
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When I end up looking back, I don't want to feel regret. When I end up being dead, I don't want no regrets.
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12. |
Words Of Hope
03:33
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There is no meaning to these words if they can't change the world, if they don't make a difference to this place, if they go unheard or can't separate us from the herd. No longer in the dark. Our crawling days are over, the time is now to step up. As there is no meaning to these words if they can't change the world. Do we still know what we are screaming for? Why we started doing this in the first place? Or is this just a pose? Did we become what we used to oppose? Let's write our own course and walk the talk. And prove there is a point in choosing a different path. We have been staring into the negative. Occupied with excuses and self-pity. Awaiting a sign to go after our dreams. Life passing by while we are asleep. We spend our lives staring at fake reflections of ourselves. Craving the approval of friends until we are nothing more than empty shells. Is this the meaning of our time here? Swallow pills to keep us happy? By any means, can we still believe, can we still feel? Because we all need something to believe in, to put our trust in, to make this life worth living. Let us go back to feeling life, feeling alive, instead of wondering about what could have been, what should have been. Because we will all be missing everything, we will be missing out on life. And I really want to live, believe in a hopeful alternative. You can keep your jobs and your croakers, choke on your rules, limits and borders. I just need something more. Cannot give up on this world. I want to feel my heart beat and break with this routine. Go against the grain with an open heart and an open hand. Bring these words into play. As this is the only thing that makes sense to me.
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A POINT OF PROTEST Antwerpen, Belgium
"Will you remember me?"
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