Dans le port d’Amsterdam
Y’a des keupons qui dansent
Y’a des putes qui racolent
Y’a des zonards qui zonent

Sur le port d’Amsterdam,
Des clodos qui picolent,
Des dealers qui refourguent le skeud

Amsterdam !



Cut the bollocks
Destroy the pussy
fucking by the ass
Fuck the mouth !

Anti-baby, kill the baby
Anti-baby, Abortion

Cut the bollocks...

Anti-baby... I hate them !



Détruisant tous tes préjugés
Par leur bourrage de crâne,
Ils t’ont enfermé
Dans leur système donné.

Ils t’ont reprogrammé
Pour leur bon-vouloir
Maintenant tu marches pour eux
Sans le savoir.

Assisté! (x2)



I have a big problem, I’m sentenced
To die in the Maryland gas chamber
I appealed this to the court
But they upheld my sentence

Brutal Thanksgiving
Das ist ein brutal Thanksgiving (x3)
Brutal Thanksgiving !

They said it’s OK
To execute juveniles
I was 17
When I got in trouble

I should have treated as a juvenile
Now, our fair government’s trying to kill me
And no one seems to care.
I don’t think that’s right
How do you feel ?
Signed: The Condemned

They said it’s OK
To execute juveniles
I was 17
When I got in trouble

I appealed this to the court !
But they upheld my sentence
I appealed this to the court !



Nightmarish world
Run by whacking hounds
Bionic replacements
Critical injuries
Supernatural cynodoids
With tears in their eyes,
Men became the dogs’ pets.
Yoked to strange ploughs,
Men are muttering prayers.



Die Fahne fliegt, (x2)
Die Fahne von der Scham
Die Fahne fliegt, (x2)
Die Fahne vom Skaverei.

Dieses Land ist die Bastei von der Schrecken
Und gehört an einer Rasse die sie schlägt
Sie sind in einer zu teilos Kultur
einmauert und gepfert.

Die Fahne fliegt, (x2)
Die Fahne vom Skaverei.
Warum sind die Weiße dort so kühn,
Um das zu machen ?

26/09/1987 : Serge (batterie), Jean-Claude (basse), Norbert (chant), François (guitare).


Settler’s banner is flying away
Derry is open to excess
Can’t they listen the prayers
These folks have done ?

Lion can be pround ‘bout ‘em
They changed the peaceful Erin
In a paradise
For the INLA and IRA’s killers !

Would be better if they go away
Don’t forget the bloody sunday
They prefer to oppress Ulster
That’s english entertainment.

Men in the streets
Want the Ireland
To be united !
Men in the jails, forward
Want to break their ties too !

Union Jack is flying away
When those kids are hungry
What future will be
For these young celtic sons ?

Endoctrination or incarceration
Here are your only choices
Reject the system, join the IRA
‘n’ fight ‘em strongly

Would be better if they go away
Don’t forget the bloody sunday
They prefer to oppress Ulster
That’s english entertainment.


The settler’s banner is flying away
An area of Belfast is burning
A women cries ‘cuz her children died
In the name of the queen of England
In whose name ? In the name of what ?
They kill, intern and torture
Soldiers of freedom,
Catholics and protestants
Are condemned to live together

Would be better if they go away
Don’t forget the bloody sunday
That’s english, that’s english,
That’s english settlement.



Dejame te contar la historia
De mi pueblo llamado Guernica
¿Tienes problema? Pregunta policias.
¡Corre hombre anda! ¡Fascios fora !

Dejame hablar
Fascios fora !
Dejame decir
Fascios fora !

Entonces es siempre la misma cosa
niños tienen hambre / por la patria
Hijos de puta / militares
Francisco Franco no esta muerto




Woke up about ten, the night is over
I look by the window, I see the sun
Happy boy, the day is beginning
I drank a coke and I ate some cheese
...I take my skate
...a funky day
“Son of bitch” said to me a punk
But I don’t care, I like the funk

Funk is dead! (x3)
Funk is dead dead dead dead!

(Verses 2 & 3 missing)




He’s going to
Give dead bodies an injection

Strip liquid gleams
In Herbert’s eyes
He’s going to strike again
Strike again

Herbert, what he was looking for
Is the secret of immortality

He thinks he is God,
But God’ll get the upper hand of him



Fifty years after the last pogroms
It is still naïve to think
That the engines of the human misery
Would just stop ‘cuz
We’re running out of convenient room
For their victims.

New thoughts have all but taken over
Feeble minds
In complete scorn of elementary
Human rights.



Far, towards the infinite
Long barbed wire, to stretch
And there, no bird singing
On spare and hollow trees.

Noise of the steps,
Noise of the arms
Sentinels day and night
And death for who’s shunning.

And blood, cries and tears
Death for who’s shunning
Tortures and slavery
Death for who’s staying
Anguish to be selected
For the nearest burial
One day in our life
The spring will reflourish



La seconde nécessaire
Au professeur Léon Zy-KLON !!!


N.B.C. (Nucléaire Biologique Chimique)

Das ist das einzige und letzte Mittel,
Uns zu töten NBC
Alle verden befallen; keine Aussicht
Zu entgegen NBC
Du wist fertig sein, ehe zu sprechen NBC
Du wirst tot, ehe dich zu ruhren NBC
Kein Atmen, sonsnt bis du tot NBC
Macht lassen Sie sind Alles wie du NBC

Der Schein dieser solcher Schlachtbank
Und die stärke der aufzeichneten Stöße
Wir dich du Ruhe unseren Stadt zeigen
Vermägen sie du NBC tauglichkeit zu brauchen ?

26/09/1987 : Jean-Claude (basse), Serge (batterie), Norbert (chant), François (guitare).


You needed such a song to make you change your attitude.
You needed somebody to make you react.
You needed somebody to make you think.

But Straight Edge is a choice for yourself,
Not a collective choice.
“I’m a person just like you”
Doesn’t mean imitate me.

Ian launched this idea
Because it was his opinion
But not so that narrow minds
Carry the matter to extremes
Or make money with it.

You shouldn’t have any fascist attitude
And run down people who aren’t like you.
Straight Edge isn’t a fashion
You shouldn’t follow it just because they all do.

Now you are maybe in quite a good physical shape
But you have no personality.
Now you’re nothing but a clone !



Jeux de durs, jeux violents
Jeux destroy, jeux tentants
Traine pas dans les rues la nuit
Traine pas des les rues d’ici.

Skin speedé aux aguets (x2)
Crâne rasé remonte la rue
Speed, trace, rase les murs !

Panik ! Panik !
Mate à droite : la milice
Mate à gauche : la police
Range ton cuir – la police !
Fuck, frappe, matraque, concasse
La police !

Encerclé par les poulets
Encerclé par les condés
Panique !



Some bastards made a plot
To get rid of you forever
Just three doctors’ signatures
And you’ll end up your life (your life ?)

In the pits of this world.
Chemical straight jacket
Will keep dispossessing
You of yourself (yourself ?)

(Oh-oh oh-oh) Electroshocks, lobotomies
(Oh-oh oh-oh) Living amongst the madcaps
(AAAH!) No chance to get out of this hell.
(Oh-oh oh-oh) How could you commit suicide
(Oh-oh oh-oh) In this safe and empty room ?



(Lyrics in Swedish by Staffan Fagerberg. Verse is missing)

CH: Räddaren i nöden
Vad kan jag mena då?
Tänk att möta döden
Och slippa lida så.



Heavens’ saints
Are weaving cobwebs
To draw feeble minds
Into their claws.

Religion – On your knees
Religion – Pray!



Schlag Punker, schlag Skinheads,
Shlag mit lust
Weil die Grünen da sind
Zuzammen sitzen
Die pershings warten
In der Nacht und Nebel,
Aber das Krieg, es wartet nicht.

Mach schnell und schau mal
Soldaten sind bereits hier.
Du bist erschrekt und lahm
Wenn sie auf dir schießt...
Schlag !



You didn’t come to pose
You just wanna have some fun
When the music gets loud and fast
Don’t be afraid to stage-dive
‘Cuz we’ll aways catch you

You can be a slammer
(Slam for me)
We can be slammers for you
(Slam for you)

High dive, swallow dive, spinning dive
Feel bodies crossing over your head
Swim in a sea of arms
And get bogged into the crownd
Helter-skelter, you invade the stage

You can be a slammer
(Slam for me)
We can be slammers for you
(Slam for you)



I’m just another soldier
Murderer, you’ve killed my brother
I’m just another victim
Your ennemies aren’t human beings
Army, to make a soldier
You must break another kid
Shortly, I’ll hold a gun
Be sure, I won’t be a hero

Kein Reich, Ein Volk, Kein Führer (x2)

I’m fit for the service
Let’s refuse to lose a year
Cast your dress, break your arms
Boy go home, a mother’s waiting
Don’t change the world into Ulster
Remember the last war
I believe in Anarchy
Millions dead boys for liberty

Kein Reich, Ein Volk, Kein Führer (x2)



Teachable puppets
Thralldom through subliminal control
You’ll buy our shit, you’ll vote for us.

Using your hear and your sight,
We’ll sneak our messages through
The locked door of your brain.

And we can even start a civil war
By whispering and flashing “Kill Your Neighbour”

Political prisoners
Will be forced to commit suicide
Watching T.V.



(Lyrics in Finnish by Ari Enqvist)

Mä oon
Pimeys on vallanut
En tiedä
Mikkä mua
Vaivaa, voin vain pelätä.

Ja mä haluaisin karkun
Mur miten vain peata
Se on vain kuvitelmää
Ei todellisuutta

Äänet päässäni
Saa mut sekaisin
Luulen mua
Muttei ketää takanani

Ja mä haluaisin karkun
Mur miten vain peata
Se on vain kuvitelmää
Ei todellisuutta



I walk alone in the streets,
Partisan hymn comes to my hears
A bullet brushes my cheek,
I turn over and I see panzers

Da svisdaniya, da svisdaniya,
Da svisdaniya Warszawa

German hords? devastate the city
And russians are waiting for our death
Polish women are crying
Tears of blood falling on the snow

Da svisdaniya, da svisdaniya,
Da svisdaniya Warszawa