All things come to an End.
I tried to bear it in remembrance but the joyful Summer faded away.
The great Jag we worked on is only a vague memory of psychedelic pictures. 
I barely remember the smell of  your hair and your wonderful skin and the 
taste of your dazzingly beautiful pussy, flavoured with sweat, whiskey and 
blood. 
It was dangerous.
You think, our times were hard times?
Yeah, really hard, but sweet till death and definetly worthy to live. 
Wie both run riot, we lived for riot, fighting against a cash-hungry 
society with a mad moral concept, leaded rather by ruthless concerns 
than by democratic chosen politicans. Damn, we were part of this big 
shit of history, but there was no way to escape and we fought against 
ourselves and each other, too. 
 
We constituted ourselves as living weapons out of the dangerous mix of 
love, chaos, sex, crime, music, left-winged and anarchistic politics and
Rage.
 
But all things come to an End. 
 
And I don't know why and how, but i scraped through.
Now I 've got my electric gear with me, straying around and searching 
for you in
 
The Great Noir[e]

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