The Germs
(GI)

THE REVIEW

We are germs, viruses infecting the gears. Come on, perplexed beast, enter the cage, for the filth around you evolution is too slow. Full empty empty full.

I remember that cat run over by a car, lying belly up, little paws in the air frozen in mechanical movements identical to the spasms of our music. Where the earth's rumbling is heard, it seems there is a dragon stuck in the deep guts, he is beast number one, mother father brother of all of us. Meanwhile, if I knew how to be nothing, I would be something, if I knew how to be something, I would be nothing. Full empty empty full.

Every evening we gather in the square, a dog-cold without anyone around. Damn, why are you waving those spider legs? Don’t you see even the silence is laughing? Where are we going? We stay here. And what do we do? As fasè de in te cul. We let ourselves be screwed, Full empty empty full.

Ezio walks on cars like a tightrope walker on a line. Davide has bandaged his head like a mummy. Roberto walks on the school roofs. Sancho speeds under the arcade with the Fiat 500, Demonstrative acts say psychologists. Fasiv de in te cul. Get screwed. Full empty empty full.

“Fear eats the soul,” “the pink moon will take you all” and deep down you are a decent little citizen who doesn't even do drugs much. You are the cowardly mama's boy of the sleepy province, a bit like the out-of-focus guy from “Harry in Pieces.” But you are not out of focus, you're crooked. Crooked like the tower of Pisa. The result is that the inclination tangles you in your very own space-time paradigms. Standing straight is impossible. Full empty empty full.

One day you will write the names of all your masturbations, infinite more than the stars in the sky. Sex traps you, between Rimbaud and Zora the vampire, it’s always the latter you choose, no pretty soul masks in camera caritatis. So bend over yourself and disperse the seed. Full empty empty full.

Then, besides being crooked, there's that the world is awful and, objectively, has no excuses. The world has been around for a bit, it should have had time. So a bit is you and a bit is what surrounds you. The fact is that even the crooked want to leave a mark and want to do so precisely where everyone is as straight as poles. Meanwhile, tonight we are the usual five. Full empty empty full.

Sa fasen? (what do we do?). Un zir in machina (a ride in the car). The hills are shadows in a glass of milk. And we are stuck in the fog like the beast in the earth. But tonight the beast is silent, instead, Darby Crash's voice is screaming. Full empty empty full.

The devil of words and the devil of music transform shit into gold for a moment. However, that moment is too short. Better much better to disappear. Empty. Just empty.

Ah, this is one of the greatest hardcore punk records of all time.