| Song | Noise Solution |
| Artist | Groovy Aardvark |
| Album | Vacuum (Remastered) |
| 作词 : Vincent Peake | |
| 作曲 : Vincent Peake | |
| You might not notice the difference | |
| We’ve changed with his assistance | |
| Gave us a place to breathe | |
| That could provide some peace | |
| And space to fill with our noise solution | |
| Yes noise, precious noise | |
| The crackle of amplified toys | |
| Drowning of a backbeat too that could | |
| Drive a train through you | |
| This old owner unbothered by the sound | |
| For the hell of it | |
| Rented out the ultimate playing ground | |
| For kids under the streets | |
| Who could appreciate the heat | |
| Emanating from the corridors | |
| Bands burning up in the locals | |
| Pretty soon word passed around | |
| The hottest spot in this winter town | |
| Was behind the door in the parking lot | |
| Of a building that has yet to rot | |
| Owned by a man who called it home | |
| That place looked more like sewage | |
| Fat rodents feasting on garbage | |
| Armed with our rat broom | |
| To make it to the bathroom | |
| So damn dark we’d never hit the can | |
| But all day, every day | |
| He’d clean and toil without pay | |
| He left his small house and big wife | |
| To be part of our life | |
| Took us in and we loved to hang around | |
| It was disarming as hell | |
| To know he had common ground | |
| With kids under the streets... | |
| Future was always bright | |
| Never saw you cry | |
| Didn’t get a last goodbye | |
| And that’s why! | |
| My jaw hit the paper | |
| Poor ol’ Emile was murdered | |
| Death may come when you least expect it | |
| Young man, schizophrenic | |
| In a grave motion of panic | |
| Couldn’t get worse | |
| He had finally hit the ground | |
| And put an end to his life | |
| But the story must go down | |
| To kids under the streets... | |
| Alcohol fueled mayhem | |
| Friday nights were big then | |
| Mescaline in the halls | |
| Times they were Burning Tall | |
| Through heavily sedated crowds | |
| He stood sober and proud | |
| Picking up broken glass | |
| People who fell on their ass | |
| Part of our weary past | |
| I hope his memory lasts |
| zuò cí : Vincent Peake | |
| zuò qǔ : Vincent Peake | |
| You might not notice the difference | |
| We' ve changed with his assistance | |
| Gave us a place to breathe | |
| That could provide some peace | |
| And space to fill with our noise solution | |
| Yes noise, precious noise | |
| The crackle of amplified toys | |
| Drowning of a backbeat too that could | |
| Drive a train through you | |
| This old owner unbothered by the sound | |
| For the hell of it | |
| Rented out the ultimate playing ground | |
| For kids under the streets | |
| Who could appreciate the heat | |
| Emanating from the corridors | |
| Bands burning up in the locals | |
| Pretty soon word passed around | |
| The hottest spot in this winter town | |
| Was behind the door in the parking lot | |
| Of a building that has yet to rot | |
| Owned by a man who called it home | |
| That place looked more like sewage | |
| Fat rodents feasting on garbage | |
| Armed with our rat broom | |
| To make it to the bathroom | |
| So damn dark we' d never hit the can | |
| But all day, every day | |
| He' d clean and toil without pay | |
| He left his small house and big wife | |
| To be part of our life | |
| Took us in and we loved to hang around | |
| It was disarming as hell | |
| To know he had common ground | |
| With kids under the streets... | |
| Future was always bright | |
| Never saw you cry | |
| Didn' t get a last goodbye | |
| And that' s why! | |
| My jaw hit the paper | |
| Poor ol' Emile was murdered | |
| Death may come when you least expect it | |
| Young man, schizophrenic | |
| In a grave motion of panic | |
| Couldn' t get worse | |
| He had finally hit the ground | |
| And put an end to his life | |
| But the story must go down | |
| To kids under the streets... | |
| Alcohol fueled mayhem | |
| Friday nights were big then | |
| Mescaline in the halls | |
| Times they were Burning Tall | |
| Through heavily sedated crowds | |
| He stood sober and proud | |
| Picking up broken glass | |
| People who fell on their ass | |
| Part of our weary past | |
| I hope his memory lasts |