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The (International) Noise Conspiracy
Up For Sale E.P.
"The class speaks with the words we utter and we proletarians push the pen. The soul-machine wears out,
begins to splutter.
They tell us: 'Your place is on the shelf.' "
- VLADIMIR MAJAKOVSKY -
40 days and 40 nights since I
Last got in a fight
Hey now! what have we done?
Money's on the lookout for number 1
40 days and 40 nights since I
Last got in a fight
Hey now! what have we done?
Money's on the lookout for number 1
40 nights and 40 days that's how
That's how long I'm going to stay
Yeah! what have become
Of the children that this culture spawned?
Another word for the lack of precision
Another word that fits me and you
We're up for sale
Everything that we know is up for sale
We're up for sale
Everything that we know is up for sale
40 days and 40 nights since I
Last saw some light
Hey yeah! what have we done
Sacrificed our kids and our loved ones
40 nights and 40 days is this the
The price we are going to pay?
Hey yeah! what have become
Marked up and price-tagged everyone
Another word for the lack of precision
Another word that fits me and you
We're up for sale
Everything that we know is up for sale
We're up for sale
Everything that we know is up for sale
Another dream for the lack of precision
Another dream for the lack of precision
Another dream for the lack of precision
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
We're up for sale
Everything that we know is up for sale
We're up for sale
Everything that we know is up for sale
We're up for sale
Everything that we know is up for sale
We're up for sale a-a-a-a-ale
"The Cannon killed feudalism. The ink will kill modern society."
- NAPOLEON BONAPARTE -
Dead from the waist up
Constant coma keeps us all corrupt, yeah!
Weighed down with our blinds shut
No wonder that we feel so fucked up
Condemned to a blank mind
Waste product of the production line
New designs to assure that we are doing fine
While we spend our time spending time
Born straight into boredom
This freedom works if we can affors it
Bedrooms plastered guitars & haircuts
While this flow of nothing keeps us fucked up
Get to love the new flavors
Where cops and talkshows are the real saviors
Choice implies a different taste and I'm
Sure that we haven't learned anything
Spend hours flipping - listening to songs about nothing
Spend life traumatized - paralysed baby with T.V.-eyes
Break the attention span
10 seconds' too much and I can't comprehend
Fast moving, fast talking, no thinking plan
Needs to tell me how free I am
Cultural structure set to simplify
Brought up with empty minds & empty lives
New designs assure that we are doing fine
While we spend our time spending time
Get to love the new flavors
Where cops and talkshows are the real saviors
Choice implies a different taste and I'm
Sure that we haven't learned anything
Spend hours flipping - listening to songs about nothing
Spend life paralysed - traumatized with T.V.-eyes
My hands are shaking
Could it be, yeah!
Another shot of
Hey! this poverty
My hands are shaking
Could it be, yeah!
Another shot of
Hey! this poverty, yeah!
We understand nothing
Nothing's what we're supposed to understand
We understand nothing here
Nothing's what we're supposed to understand
We understand nothing here
Nothing's what we're supposed to understand
We understand nothing here
Nothing's what we're supposed to understand
"All generalizations are dangerous, even this one."
- ALEXANDRE DUMAS -
Cut off, not happy not too sad
State of come right in drugwonderland
No existence, culture or game
Advertised by failure and by shame
(Infringed and death struck) Condemned by freedom rules set
Not even freemarket can change that
Lack of life the economy brings
Turns everything into things, to things, yeah!
(A blind nostalgia) Ship us downtown for some good old days
Corrupt the passion and control the space
Blame the victim so we can get away
This system turned's all into slaves, to slaves, yeah!
People here are hardly breathing
Everybody seems to have lost their head
I don't know about you baby
But feels like I'm living amongst the dead
People here are hardly breathing
Everybody seems to have lost their head
I don't know about you baby
But feels like I'm living amongst the dead
Cut off, not too happy not too sad
State of come right in drugwonderland
No existence, culture or game
Advertised by failure and by shame, yeah!
Hey! People here are hardly breathing
Everybody seems to have lost their head
I don't know about you baby
But feels like I'm living amongst the dead
People here are hardly breathing
Everybody seems to have lost their head
I don't know about you baby
But feels like I'm living amongst the... Dead!
Written on the bourgeois body
Written on the bourgeois body
Written on the bourgeois body
Written on the bourgeois body
Written on the bourgeois body
Written on the bourgeois body
Written on the bourgeois body
Written on the bourgeois body
The (International) Noise Conspiracy.
Inge Johansson -- bass & vocals.
Dennis Lyxzén -- vocals & tambourine.
Ludwig Dahlberg -- drums.
Sara Almgren -- guitar, organ & tambourine.
Lars Strömberg -- guitar & vocals
Percussion by Jari Haapalainen.
Backing vocals by Johan Gustavsson.
Recorded at the Gröndahl studio May/June 2001 & January 2002.
Layout and artwork by Hugo Sundkvist.