The Compilations

by Rat Patrol

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If you hate drug abusers send them to Thailand; caught with one shot they'll be shot in the head. If you hate judges send them to Italy; give them a week and they'll be found dead. If you hate gypsies send them to Hungary; racists and Nazis will know how to deal with them. For each person you don't like there's a place to send him off to, let others solve all your problems, easy way out if you don't know what to do... If you hate children send them to Chernobyl; they'll become radiant just before your eyes. If you hate AIDS patients send them to Cuba; they'll put them in cages and bid them goodbye. If you hate Bosnians send them to Holland; our deserted boot camps have plenty of space. Our barracks will certainly look so familiar; a military setting, such a nice place. (Words: Roelsel; Music: Jansel/Rat Patrol)
Many angry parties try to win their wars, adolescents dying with no idea what for. And still the battle goes on and on, all these battles that can't be won. The masses seem to think it's great to get dressed up in uniforms. These placebos for their mother's wombs create a false of belonging. Lifelong friend turn into foes over things that happened long ago while the dictators put on their show. Such a false sense of belonging. Unfold your maps and draw some lines, call them your borders and trespassing a crime. Resulting is total isolation, helpless people dying for their great nation. Bosnia-Hercegovina, Azerbeidjan and Armenia, Georgia to South Africa, symbols of a violent era. Tangled up in civil wars, not thinking of civil rights, ignorance and prejudice both are used to stir up fights. Making sure they stay in line. This status quo it feels so fine. Start negotiations, break 'em off again. Promise people peace but never mention when. The masses try hard to obey, act on what their leaders say. Hanging on their blind faith, in this stupid sense of belonging. Race, religion, place of birth, these things seem to prove their worth. To hire ones limbs to the slaughter with a false sense of belonging. It's all a false sense of belonging. (Lyrics: Henry/Roelsel; Music: Jansel/Rat Patrol)
Many Dutch priests take a vow of celibacy, but some of them swear to plain hypocrisy. Like this really nice Father with his huge libido, who had his cock sucked by a kid, five years old. Bless me Father, for I live in sin. That's alright, Son, come and join in. We bid you welcome to our circle, you must hate to be a jerk all by yourself. Father Asshole's everywhere, especially in the States, where many of the priests suddenly run into AIDS. The whole Catholic world's in panic, there's a lot of confusion. Do all these holy men die of bad bloodtransfusions? Priesthood turns out to be a world of broken promises. Dog-collars are no guarantee for heavenly bliss. Animals in garments make the world open its eyes. The Roman Catholic Empire gets destroyed by its own lies (Lyrics: Roelsel; Music: Roelsel/Rat Patrol)
You were always selling your gas and gasoline. You were always telling 'I am just so little'. Didn't look further then you ever wanted, selling your gas, don't care about the rest. But now some guys have come along, they cut your hoses, and sprayed your pumps. They've put sugar in your tanks, and sprayed the 'why' on your walls. So open up your eyes, you've got blood on your hands. Apartheid doesn't exist without the supply of oil. We won't give you a second chance, because you've got blood on your hands. Have you ever noticed that your car runs on blood or were you too blind to see... You are the one that can close tap, and stop the blood from being shed. You are calling them criminals, because they've brought the war to your front door. But maybe you will think of all the kids rotting in South-african jails. Now some of the militants they are in jail and the D.A.'s name is Mr. White, like in South-africa the D.A.'s name is... You - you've got blood on your hands. You - who support apartheid. You - you, you and all your kind (Lyrics: Henry; Music: Henry/Rat Patrol)
Hi there, I'm a child molester, my mind is utterly sick. Whenever I see babes or infants I ram them with my dick. SM, piss-sex, rubber dolls, nothing seems to work. Haven't found a thing to jerk. Abuse the pure and innocent, solution to my little problem... Oh, yes I know it's dangerous: what if they found out. Would the people form a lynch mob, or would they wipe me out? ...oooohhh yes baaabyyy, you're just to narrow. Split you wide open with my love arrow... These lyrics turn your stomach over, perversion or sick fantasy? This world is full of child molesters, to them this is reality. Kiddie porn's an industry, Holland's one monopoly. Let this be an ugly dream so that we can wake up with a scream. (Words: Roelsel; Music: Pjotr/Jansel/Rat Patrol)
Peace reigns, freedom reigns, democracy rules. Our whole world is falling apart, we're creating enemies where there aren't any. Guns give power, power gives fear; it's our job to make sure that the other side keeps on fighting. Whatever side... How can we stop the military industrial complex flourishing without clear-cut, fucking, pigfaced, scumsucking evil breathing down our necks? Guns give power, power gives fear, feels nice, doesn't it? (Words: Jansel, with a little help from Mickey Rourke in White Sands; Music: Jansel/Rat Patrol)
Back stabbing - pill grabbing. Fucking up - no brains at all. No time to think - beat you up. Dope floats round - dope takes control. I overheard you saying that I suck (behind my back!). Creeping up behind me, sticking a knife in my back (deep inside!). What the fuck you're doing, judging people by the way they look (not like you!). You never understood anyway... You never understood some things work both ways. Never thought these things concerned even you. When someone walks through that door, you got your comment ready. "You're too old, you're not a punk, get out of here, don't come back!". If you're so smart and know it so well, why you're still so down the drain, don't bother me. With the pills you take, spend your last dime on, still beg for more. Money makes everyone your friend for a quarter, you kiss ass trembling, waiting for your next welfare cheque. You seem to forget some truths work both ways, never judge people by the way they look, 'cause if you can, Mister, you're a better man than I. You suck, you're a cunt (Lyrics: Henry; Music: Jansel/Rat Patrol)
I sit down, unable to sleep at night. The entire world is screwing my mind. My day's work is an endless fight, want to hit the bottle and drink myself blind. Sense of growing old, getting out of touch, leaves me feeling cold, identity's been sold. I own a car and I own a house. Supposed to be in luck to have a steady job. I do what's expected, turn into a grey mouse. Learned a whole new language, hear me talking Snob. Reduced into a dull boy from all work and no play. A numbskull career chaser with nothing left to say. Sick and tired of this shit, I'm searching for my passion. My days of climbing barricades, they seem so out of fashion. Sucked up by the system, its current is so strong. What the fuck am I doing, the system is still wrong. (Words: Roelsel; Music: Pjotr/Rat Patrol)
Amsterdam Central, a place to keep on moving. Amsterdam Central, so innocent looking. But if you take your time to watch, this place is not so nice. A filthy and corrupted station, a hellhole full of vice. The moment I stop moving I am no longer safe here. Creeps and assholes are closing in, looking at my beer. My cigarette draws attention and I feel I'm being watched, in this crowded public building I suddenly feel lost. First comes up a junkie who is barely able to walk. Her interest is my wallet, she doesn't want to talk. When I tell her to fuck off she tries to get aggressive, but when I make one move, she's suddenly so submissive... I'm pestered by junks and drunks, up comes a guy from Germany. Tries to be polite while begging, eine zigarette, he's asking me. Five steps away, three faggot boys, who seem to think I'm interested. If I were gay instead of straight I wouldn't give a shit. Men and women mind their business, no one sees what's going on, underneath this tranquil surface lies a hideous looking swamp. Degenerates roam the platforms looking for an easy prey. The best solution we have to offer is to simply look the other way. (Words: Roelsel; Music: Pjotr/Jansel/Rat Patrol) .
George Herbert Walker Bush: President, Father, Son, Gun collector, life-long member of the NRA... Throughout my many years in office, I've had the opportunity to associate with the kind of people whose words and deeds and force of will have helped shape the world we live in. The man with a gun has a significant advantage oOver the man with a charming turn of phrase. There's a time to talk and a time to shoot, that's what freedom is all about. Most of the individuals, especially the forceful ones, own and enjoy fire-arms, these are dangerous times. Everybody's heard about the quality of life, but what about the quality of death. Shooting an enemy can save years of hardship, it's the American way. The right to bear arms and shoot troublemakers is protected under the Bill of Rights and that's the way I like it. I'd rather have blood on my hands than a charming word on my lips. To create a kinder gentler America you have got to get tough. That's why I'm a member of the NRA, it's good for me. And it's good for the people and it's good for votes. I AM the NRA! (Lyrics: Jansel; Music: Jansel/Rat Patrol)
Have you heard the latest news About the Balkan concentration camps? Join us for some inside views On NATO’s intervention plans Refrein We’ll be right back, don’t go away Watch these messages our sponsors want to play This news is brought live onto your screens With important news from Pepsi in between Okay, war is cruel, war’s a bitch It’s big money too, our fingers itch The NATO armies turn their war Into a fucking television show Damage is called ‘collateral’ As if they’re playing fucking Nintendo Refrein We’ll be right back, don’t go away Watch these messages our sponsors want to play This news is brought live onto your screens With important news from Pepsi in between Okay, war is cruel, war’s a bitch It’s big money too, our fingers itch (Words: Roelsel; Music: Rat Patrol)
This is the end, this is the end, the end my girl, the end of everything. This is the end, this is the end, the end of our fucking relation, the end of everything. This is the end, this is the end, the end of my time with you, the end of everything. The time we've been together seems to be too long. I hoped it would last forever, I just can't realize it's gone. You have to tell me why we didn't make it, I don't understand what's gone wrong. Maybe you think that I don't care, well make sure honey I'm not that strong. This is the end, this is the end, the end of my life. Nothing makes sense to me anymore (Lyrics: Jansel; Music: Jansel/Deluxe Green)


Compilation of all non-album versions so far. Some tracks taken from vinyl. Not relased as CD, only available for download. Some original compilations are still available from us.


released January 1, 2003

Roelsel - Vocals; Henry - Drums, Vocals; Pjotr - Guitar; Jansel - Bass, Vocals


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Rat Patrol Groningen, The Netherlands

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