Die, Gavin, Die

Feed Me A Stray Cat

Bomb In The Building

Nightmare Baby (Green Goblyn Project)

Sign Of The Times

Hurricane Turbo

The Lord's Rx

Don't Touch Me

Mean Muggin

Line by line, bruised up , bet up, black masked, enraged blind
At this national convention, heads of state will paint D.C. red
Black smoke like foundries, Flipped cars, dead bodies
Flack vests, riot shields, armored cars. A media blitz for media whores.

Cordite's smell gets me high, makes me unafraid to kill and die
Blood soaked suits in piled tattered shreds, CEO's stacked high and dead
Evil will never escape the eyes and angers of love's hate.
Their Cadillacs will become their coffins, their polo shirts will be hung from their damned crosses.

Not surprised by what you've seen, desensitized by action-packed TV
Eyes blasted back inside yer skull. The cup ain't there, yer mind ain't half full
Terminal proletarians, take what you're given, fuck your opinion, don't you dare listen to anything different,
The state is demanding your total submission.

No

Under no circumstance or condition
Will you be acquainted with my submission.

Cowboy Killer

Anarcho-Terror Punk from your friends at Grüppe 36

Humyn Debris

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