Conspiranoid EP

by Mortal Wombat

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1.
02:26
2.
3.
01:50
4.
00:39
5.
6.
02:22

credits

released January 18, 2017

Grabado, mezclado y masterizado por La Ruidosa Producciones en octubre y noviembre de 2016.
Artwork: Marceline.
Karlitos "Rude Pride": voces en "Conspiranoid".
Gracias a Nacho por dejarnos la batería para la grabación.

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Mortal Wombat Madrid, Spain

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Track Name: No coast
When I stare by the window
I can see the concrete sea
The enormous city where I always lived
And I wonder if it’s the place where I wanna be

No east, no west
No peace, no rest
No waves, no boards
No surf, no coast

This ain´t L.A, this ain´t N.Y.
I complain, I don´t know why
When I want to watch the sea
I take the tram to Parla Beach
Track Name: Mike the stakhanovite
Mike wakes up at 5 a.m.
Drives 30 miles everyday
Works from sunrise to sunset
Earning money that will never be enjoyed

Work is dignity, says Mike
(But) He´s a fucking stakhanovite
Talk shit ´bout those who don´t work
Snitches if someone does something wrong

Mike, think about it,
There´s a life beyond your job
And you won´t inherit the world
By working for someone
Track Name: May Day
The stick beats the head
A spurt of blood begins to flow
Among the crowd
The leader is not safe anymore

After all those betrayals
You got what you deserved
That tissue´s getting bloody red (oh yeah!)

After all those betrayals
You got what you deserved
It´s seems you really wanna yell

Mayday, mayday, mayday
Mayday, mayday, mayday

People shout
The fellow is a heavy-weight
An emergency call
Because his flight is losing height

After all those betrayals
You got what you deserved
That tissue´s getting bloody red (oh yeah!)

After all those betrayals
You got what you deserved
It´s seems you really wanna yell:

May Day, May Day, May Day
May Day, May Day, May Day
Track Name: Grip
God (God)
Give me more grip (give him more grip)
To grab my sticks (to grab his sticks)
My butter hands don´t help

Please (please)
Give me more grip (give him more grip)
To grab my sticks (to grab his sticks)
So they won´t fly over their heads

Give me more grip (give him more grip)
Give me more grip (give him more grip)
Track Name: Scratched knees
With a ball in the hand
Ringing the bells at my friends´
Stones, bottles or sweaters
Were the posts of our goals

Scratched knees and bruises
Matches with no referees

Waste grounds or lonely streets
Were the stadiums of our league
Games lasted till dusk
Blew the final whistle

Scratched knees and bruises
Matches with no referees
Track Name: Conspiranoid
Were the aliens who did this to me?
Was Osama really thrown to the sea?
Who the fuck drew that shit in the fields?
Is the CIA behind everything?

How the hell that pyramid was built?
And what about that attack to the twins?
I´m trying to answer these questions
My friends tell me that I´m becoming a…

Conspiranoid
I need to fill this void
Conspiranoid
And blame the reptiloids

Aliens and Americans
Bilderberg and saurians
They all are to blame
Maybe they are the same

I´m not sure if that´s the truth
But it works for me (and for you)
To explain good and evil
Taking the easiest way