AN ARTROCKER ALBUM OF THE YEAR 'Translators for our imploding society... ...with it's half our of aggressive hooks and immediacy, we need albums like 'Give Me Walls' at the moment' ARTROCKER ALBUM OF THE MONTH DECEMBER 2010 *****5 OUT 5*****
'With the energy levels cranked to maximum, it's hard not to get sucked into their dark whirlpool of noise' Mojo
'There's more than initially meets the ears here... a voice that could fell oakes at 100 meters... razor-sharp guitar wizardry... probably exactly how Courtney Love thinks Hole sound.' Q
'Cold in Berlin exude gutsy guitar riffs... and Maya's voice breathes heavy stories of volatile sexuality perfect for wrapping animalistic howls around ...demented devil dynamics' Rock Sound
'Give Me Walls' never slows down, never takes a breath... like a meaner and scarier Be Your Own Pet, which is a good thing' Loud and Quiet
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lyrics
Give me your mouth, open wide
Let’s crack your rib cage, I will twist and slip inside
I’ll never leave you, there’s nothing good to take
Don’t say you love, we both know it’s a mistake
I’m nothing more than crawling on my knees
I’m nothing more than begging baby please
She’s nothing but a love sick disease
In total fear, total fear
But that’s how we live here
Give me your mouth, open wide
Let’s crack your secrets, I could do with confiding
I’ll never leave you, it’s more than you could take
Don’t you dare walk away, we both know it’s a mistake
I’m nothing more than crawling on my knees
I’m nothing more than begging baby please
She’s nothing but a love sick disease
In total fear, total fear
But that’s how we live here
You get a lot done, but there’s no escape
You get a lot done, but there’s no escape
You get a lot done, but there’s no escape
From total fear
You fuck a total stranger, you won’t make up for this
Your family of strangers, it won’t make up for this
Your stupid fucking haircut, won’t make up for this
You put your faith in intellect, it won’t make up for this
You dance away your weekends, it won’t make up for this
Your Saturday supermarket, won’t make up for this
Your 2.4 children, won’t make up for this
You live your life through television, won’t make up for this
And all the stupid books you read, they won’t make up for this
Your Saturday supermarket, won’t make up for this
You put your faith in intellect, it won’t make up for this
Your stupid fucking haircut, won’t make up for this
Your family of strangers, it won’t make up for this
You lose your life to magazine, it won’t make up for this
Your television nightmare, it won’t make up for this
You fuck a total stranger, it won’t make up for this
There’s no hope, there’s no hope, there’s no hope left
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