Beloved friends! As everyone knows it is in everyone's interest to conserve all these old values
that has been grown in the name of panic and the evil one. In 1978 a man realized all of this, he
got up - he sat down, to stand never again. To disguise, get into character, has always been an
option. The endless hunt to make a career. The copulating and the nepotistic politics. To only
dare to open your mouth when the cash-in is around he corner. Whilst the self loathing increases
to eventually smother the final shred of pride that once existed. Some emigrates, other gets jobs
where the worthlessness forces you to punch in and out until the end of days. Some heads straight
into the chill of the Nordic nights to be never heard of again. All of these we despise unreservedly.
We don't only piss on your foreheads, we are the piss that you lick - where ever you are.
We decided that only the best were good enough. To wade through a sea of illegal substances,
while the strap from the gasmask only cuts deeper and deeper into our dusty throats.
When a pint no longer is despised poetry, when the lifeline finally have ruptured, we let our filthy
urine drown you without reservation. A lifetime of god intentions fertilized with the homogenisation
as the only true way. The escapades and skirmish has been overwhelming, more than we honestly
want to remember.
Like the filthy little vagrant that withers in his all too tight pants by the finest gabardine, more and
more bootless, he labours to be remembered one day.
Yet our march is only a play for the damned spectators.
To create music has never been a vision, only a charade to mask the actual purpose - namely to
sleep with immigrants, to caress the man from Iran, to court the ancestor of kebab.
Like a modern Hermann Göring, sweaty, obese and with on single thought - The Air Force!
We got the first man on the moon, limping like a lunatic offering you a cocktail in your hot tub!
The Ligga Med Invandrare E.P. - Brought to you with questionable intentions and no ambition
by the värdelösa haschbolaget Third Reichords.
Vocals: Well Done (44 years of Chaos)
Drums: The Strawberry Shield (Anti-Cimex, Troublemakers, Driller Killer) missing on picture
Speed Guitar: Stavros Rossignol (Genocide SS, Nasum, The Accidents)
Greed Guitar: The Ticking Torso (Charisma Chaos, The Accidents)
Bas, fiol & flöjt: 4-Pack (A really Big Twin)
The sinister minister of Propaganda & Uganda, Idi Ketamin: