Landverraad​/​Monday Suicide split LP

by Landverraad & Monday Suicide

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  • Record/Vinyl + Digital Album

    Includes unlimited streaming of Landverraad/Monday Suicide split LP via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
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released July 31, 2014




Moshpotatoes Gent, Belgium

Rad Tunes For Tru Punx

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Track Name: Landverraad - Polite lunch conversation at the office
I’m not a racist, but….
Oh yes!! I can’t wait for what is coming now.
Please, please: surprise me!
Which of the predictable platitudes will follow next?
Something with crime statistics I bet - your false confirmation of ‘proof’.
The propaganda of senseless figures
Leaving out history, class, economic injustice, state racism and the structural violence embedded in society.

I’m not a racist but…

And yes - please, pléase add to that,
that one of your best friends is black
and how you just love exotic cuisine and kebab.

Go on, tell me, tell me.

And at another day, there is another chance
And here we go again:
‘I have nothing against women but you have to admit some girls ask for it.’
Yes! Go on! Say it! Say it!
Say how it is all theír fault,
how it is theír clothes, how they were at the wrong time in the wrong place. Asking -of course - they are simply ásking to get harassed!

Go on, push me, push me over the edge
and with every word from you
there is less reason for me to hold back,
less reason to remain my sanity.
I’m almost there.
Every word is one step closer
to me losing it completely and legitimately

And if you are lucky,
the next thing you know
is you on the floor in cigarette buds
holding your crushed balls.
Track Name: Landverraad - Korova
Дряхлая, выпали зубы,
Свиток годов на рогах.
Бил ее выгонщик грубый
На перегонных полях.

Сердце неласково к шуму,
Мыши скребут в уголке.
Думает грустную луму
О белоногом телке.

Не дали матери сына,
Первая радость не прок.
И на колу под осиной
Шкуру трепал ветерок.

Скоро на гречневом свее,
С той же сыновней судьбой,
Свяжут ей петлю на шее
И поведут на убой.

Жалобно, грустно и тоще
В землю вопьются рога...
Снится ей белая роща
И травяные луга.


Infirm, fallen out teeth,
An aging scroll on her horns.
The rude farmer would hit her
On the pasting fields.

Heart is unkind to the noise,
The mice are screeching in the corner.
Conducting sad thoughts
About a white-legged calf.

Son take away from the mother,
First ever joy to waste.
And his fur will be trembling
On a pole under a beech tree.

Soon on the buckwheat plantation,
Destined just like her son,
A noose will be put round her neck
To lead her to slaughter.

Pitiful, bitter and meager
The horns bite into the dust...
She’s dreaming of a white grove
And grassy fields.
Track Name: Landverraad - The mirror is broken
The mirror is broken
The damage is done
As the blood drips
It streams out my self-conscience

Today I avoid my reflection
It’ll make it worse,
I’m so discontent and I am disgusted
With myself, with myself.

Does everyone have this?
Will this ever pass?
Are all the insecurities
Gonna haunt me ‘til my last breath?

What/who did this?
Are we all to blame?
For creating this monster
That swallows you whole and spits out the bones
If you don’t fit the standard?

Stop feeding it.
Stop stereotyping.

I’m not that poster
You’re not that commercial
And yet we all buy it
Track Name: Landverraad - Amputy
Beyond interpretation
Unable to designate
The moment you made my confusion
Turn into self-hate.

You used me to get off
And when my lips move to spell rape
I disconnect from my body,
All of my insides ache.

Put me into my place
Told me what I deserve
Showed me how I should be treated,
Called me a pervert.

I bought it all, I submit.
You were violent and cold.
All the pain you inflicted,
Yet I took it all.

That moment I thought I would die
No, I was already dead
You killed something inside me
I never knew I had.

How can I regain my confidence
When you mixed it with dirt?
And what about this numbness?
It becomes so overt.

When you held me submitted
When it made you so horny
What went through your mind
What was in your heart?
Do you have a heart?
Or are you an amputy?
Just like you made me
Track Name: Landverraad - After the Smoke Clears
No nations
Under no gods
Burning flags
Uniting states
Of existence
Without authority
And without class

When you close your eyes
Can you see with mine?
Can you adjust your vision,
Can you change your mind?

No nations
Under no gods
Burning flags
Uniting states
Of existence
Without authority
And without class

After the smoke clears
Will you want to build?
And will you want to listen
To solve the mess that we are in?
Track Name: Landverraad - New resolutions
Never again
I say to myself
Not letting my conscience
Get in the way

Can we change the world
Without changing our tactics?

Completely destroyed
So humiliated
They took our anger
And it turned to depression

A fight never fought
Put into iron brackets
Our flags in the air
Filled with rubber and pepper

Never again
I say to myself
New resolutions
To abandon this mess
Track Name: Monday Suicide - поколение ублюдков // generation of bastards
поколение ублюдков

поколение ублюдков и героев ночников
всего несколько друзей, тысячи врагов
мы родились под кроватью никогда не видев свет
нас всегда кормили лажей знавшие ответ

так четко вижу себя в тебе
в грязи родившись живешь в говне
мечты о солнце среди слепых
боюсь проснуться одним из них

поколение ублюдков и героев ночников
нас всегда кормили лажей знавшие ответ


generation of bastards

generation of bastards and late-night bottle-shop heroes
just a few friends, thousands of enemies
we were born under the bed and we never saw the light
we were always fed bullshit by those who knew the answer

i can see myself in you so clearly
you were born in the dirt and you live in shit
dreams of the sun amongst the blind
i fear waking up as one of them

generation of bastards and late-night bottle-shop heroes
we were always fed bullshit by those who knew the answer
Track Name: Monday Suicide - чужая жизнь // strange life
чужая жизнь

чужая жизнь
удобная схема

чужая жизнь как вечный пиздёж
с чужими людьми чужими словами
мы на крючке, нас потрошат
нас фаршируют чужими мечтами

сложно "остаться в тени и не дышать"
проще нырнуть с головой в социальную кому
где каждый идет через собственный ад
пытаясь скопировать жизнь с реалити-шоу

кто нас заставил купить этот хлам?
кто вырядил нас, как барби и кена?
есть ли хоть шанс прожить свою жизнь,
а не чужую удобную схему?


strange life

strange life
convenient scheme

strange life is like eternal bullshit
with strange people in strange words
we swallowed the bait, we get gutted
and we get stuffed with strange dreams

it's hard to "stay in the shadow and not breathe"
it's easier to dive head-first into the social coma
where everyone is going through their own hell
trying to carbon-copy their life from a reality show

who made us buy all this crap?
who dressed us like barbie and ken?
is there a single chance to live our own lives
not a strange convenient scheme?
Track Name: Monday Suicide - тот, кто танцует как лох // dancing like a dork
тот, кто танцует как лох

страх показаться лохом
диктует слова и диктует поступки
лезу из кожи вон
танцуя под заебавшие дудки
сколько осталось снаружи
от того, что внутри?

ведь я из тех, кто танцует как лох
и бывает не вяжет ни лыка
купив дорогой аппарат
играет на нем как последний растыка
и мне похуй во что ты одет
похуй цвета и похуй раскраски
снова теряем лицо
за смеющейся маской

в ужасе ждем от других одобрительных слов
нас разъединили, заставив бояться себя
ежедневно пытаясь казаться не тем кто мы есть
тонем в море из своего же дерьма

первый "оделся как чмо"
второй "подозрительный и тихий"
третий "всё время пьет"
и каждый из нас себя чувствует психом


dancing like a dork

fear of looking dorky
dictates the words and dictates actions
i bend over backwards
dancing to the horns i'm fucking sick of
how much is left outside
of what was inside?

because i'm one of those dancing like a dork
and sometimes can get drunk as a skunk
after buying expensive gear
i play it like a total knobhead
and i don't give a fuck what you're wearing
don't give a fuck about colours or make-up
we lose our faces again
behind a laughing mask

in fear we wait for words of approval from others
we were divided as we were made to fear ourselves
trying to seem to be not what we really are every day
we drown in a sea of our own shit

the first one is "dressed like a fuckwit"
the second one is "suspicious and quiet"
the third one is "on the piss all the time"
and each one of us feels like a nutter