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]

[auf der alten Page stand hier ein Link zu einer Homepage. doch scheint sich hier der Infotext zur self-fulfilling prophecy verwandelt zu haben: die Seite existiert nicht mehr.
seems this project also has come to an end.
wir behalten die Info trotzdem zur Dokumentation]