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24 YEARS

by NINE ELEVEN

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1.
Fuck your nine to five way of life, fuck your school emulation And verses of defeat you force yourself to respect Everything we learn, there’s nothing left to understand from Everything we love suffocates, trapped between (4) classroom walls Where the will of instinct has been tamed, Our feelings stormed and torn from the bones For being thrown to the apes So let’s fuck the way taken by common people and fuck you all again cause that’s what you expect from us :
2.
Learn to count first, then to read, and obey. Make these ends meeting the hands of the soul eaters, and the heart snatcher Consume the rest of a life torn apart by the painful feeling of letting everything passing by Sounds like the payback for playboys and playmates whose play-rec’s life now turns into playback From fifteen to a banished sky, we’d rather fuck the place up, than spending long years in places of death, down in the dumps Riding iron lines, grinding neons skies Exploding tenses through space time There’s nothing we fear, Nothing we’re waiting for, Nothing we need more than a deck, a black ink cartridge belt, - WE DON’T NEED ANYTHING MORE - spitting cigarette burns carved in rage and drawn on pages of sand It’s the way black sheeps act and think to let this fuckin’ ship sink We hate ourselves better than you. No, It’s wrong, what should we do
3.
On the «grand Saint Antoine», the crow’s nest is the last haven in this fuckin’ cell. And up here, we can feel hell blowing… It storms on our heretic face. Cannibals are huddled down there and laid siege on the deck Feeding their soul with love for dead-eyed models And ready to hit everyone who dares not to sell Their body and name to illusions they serve «Hope» that got off their word is rotting on the river’s left shore. Anyway, what could those who crossed these muddy banks share? If that’s not just fears and regrets ? (-The sandman is speaking to us from the crowd of cannibals :) «You, the sheeps of God, our sweet Lord, you shall rock the quick and the dead at his appearing and his kingdom. All those you see around come up like : - the ones who like all the pretty songs - And they like to sing along - and they like to drink beer bongs But they don’t know what it means So come join me in Eden, where are drawn lines of heaven That the common run of idiots spends a lifetime working for none And take place amongst the sentries who look out for their sleep Cause you and I know well that a soft bed Seals the strongest of the wills better than a grave » - what we answer back :
4.
«This world is coming to an end, letting hell thrive on each side where all gods and devils stand, to watch their drama putrefy So there’s no one we have to deal with, living or dead, no one we have to respect, Bombing your dying show biz’, It is just what we expect Laughing at the death threats from the dogs of the «order», If we turn the other cheek it’s to bite you better Jumping at your throat, killing others with your own bones What up y’all ?! We killed 2 bitches with 1 skull Story tellers of our own life, The mindset tempered in steel. We stand for the noise, for the smell of the asphalt, The blood and the sweat of those who lived. You, the sandman - the sold out one - the success you’ve always run after is now eating your mind joining there alcohol fumes and what’s left of your lines. While a change with a heap of corpses, is just what you’ll leave behind It’s all, for you, about fairy tales To tell with a tragic ton to the damned You’re still keeping the heart tied on With a spoon, lighter and lemon Suffer beating inside lost beings Is the driving force of your own history But this film is just really too thin For our real full life story This world is coming to an end, letting hell thrive on each side where all gods and devils stand, to watch their drama putrefy»
5.
From Charybdis to Scylla,  all sirens sing some serene songs Which all got the smell of the circus, the taste of bread and a forked tongue They all pretend to have something to say When they just have clothes to sell and a new trend to fit in.   Don’t give a fuck about their satanist rhymes, The brand of the new bad boy’s stream Or better, the new boy’s band firm, Disguised as The Crow With the eyes of a cow. Hell Yeah ! The New Kids On The Block are back in the black crowd   Now they wish they sounded like swedish witches Just because they wear sweet reversed crosses. Anyway with black shoes, black suits, black hats, White cats all look the same at night. And when they promote music as one would with a sex tape, Grabbing the mic like a sex toy And use empty words to fill up the same noise,   No matter if they exhume god while doing the job, Or blow mottos robbed to an old fight club, They’re just making business out of something dead
6.
From haven we got hell and heard the swell Flipping a coin, with the last prophets, Gods, devils and deads, the lost soul’s fate.. When you’re blessed by them, this is what you get And so, here everyone goes Like a fish, weak, does in a bowl Willing to catch any bait As any kid would with a treat No matter the room, no matter the deck There’s no threat in here, just retreat No more threat in here, just recess How could this idiot feels good In a sun that has never shone ? Cause with heart broke and cheap glue You may hang out on the clouds You may float under lights You might pretend to fight But you’ll never feel anything warm In this whole animals’ farm. No matter the side, the kind of tears and cries, Everything and everyone is getting off THE lie. From those who sold the world To the last of the teenage whores... Cause, with empty arms, Lost souls still need to believe They must still believe Still believe in this love This love they know The only one they know They would give it all for They would kill everyone for They would sell their soul for The same they always feel, Again and again Day after day, when In the Sunset light, They let a lipstick trace on the glass… Kissing the dead met everyday inside

about

"24 years" is a kind of 6 acts tragedy, relating sensible experiences we got from this world in a chronological narrative order, that the weft and literary structure is inspired straight from Goethe's "Faust".
This record is about the story of the One who's living, the ones who're singing it along, and the monster who's looking for turning everything alive into incorporated death.

Recorded live and mixed at « La Senelle » @ Laval (France) by Amaury Sauvé.
Mastered by New Alliance East Mastering (US).

/// GET YOUR VINYL COPY HERE:

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released November 9, 2013

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NINE ELEVEN Le Mans, France

There’s no threat in here, just retreat. No more threat in here, just recess.

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