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Track: Land of Treason
Artist: Germs
Album: GI

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Name: Germs
Spotify Genres: hardcore punk, punk, proto-punk, skate punk
Followers: 155,551
Popularity:

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Biography

American punk rock band from Los Angeles, California, originally active from 1977 to 1980 and again from 2005 to 2013. Final line-up: [a251655] ([a975603]) – guitar (1977–1980, 2005–2013) [a461100] (Teresa Ryan) – bass (1977–1980, 2005–2013; died 2019) [a405170] ([a1803879]) – drums (1978–1980, 2005–2013) [a1900611] – vocals (2005–2009) Former members: [a461101] ([a5398442]) – vocals (1977–1980; died 1980) Michelle Baer – drums (1977) Dinky (Diana Grant) – bass (1977) Dottie Danger ([a56631]) – drums (1977) [a1054956] – drums (1977) [a585044] – drums (1977) Cliff Hangar – drums (1977-1978) [a269744] – drums (1978) [a511663] ([a677879]) – drums (1978) [a2796535] – drums (1980)

Source: Discogs

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Release Cover

Release: Germs - (GI)
Year: 1979
Genres: Rock
Styles: Punk

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Source: MusicBrainz

LYRICS

Land of treason-waste no reason-
we are breathing fire
We're packs of dogs-
we're enemies of men-we are not desired
Our face show-
we've grown cold-but
have not conspired
Old hearts gone-
the future's on-mother nations mired
I like a recepticle for the chosen dead,
we find our bodies clawed
And with the scent of death,
we find that we are not so very awed

Loyalties burned-
the words our blurred-overturn your own
Walk like dogs and watch the doors-
have your other stone
Stop the toys that match disordered-
calculate the thrones
Feel the pulse descending-
decaying hallowed tomes
In the starving sense you worship-
the nations of debris
You wear a cost of sewage-
that you've never ever seen

The time is now-the vicious here-
a stolen dinner code
The license of the savage land-
that you've always sold
So bite the hand that needs you
and bless another coal
The virus never issues-
from a cotton so very old
As the lights come down
You wash your hands and start to climb
the ladder that you stole
Slip the hatch-and spin the sword-
the money lords are poor
Push the tan-that rolls downhill-
their sense of dream absorbed
Still the cat that breaks the night-
tie him to the core
Chase the viruses that believe-
that what's right is scored
It's a senseless cash in of right for right-
what's wrong is never gone
And left is just a bassion for the fools
golden dawn