1. |
Murder Math
03:01
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Mountains of research and stacks of evidence guaranteed to go to waste. What makes a man tell a lie? What kind of gain have they got that compensates the tragedy they are bound to pay. Our cities will be washed away at this pace. What makes a man tell a lie? What makes a man tell a lie? It’s breaking away. Last spec of your legacy. You will be the scrap in our damaged past. Rising tides. We’re the lucky ones. Closed eyes. Had a good run. Good bye! We’ve been crushed by cruel lies. Nobody wants this so why are we haunted by loud mouthed, angry heads of state? What makes a man tell a lie? What kind of gain have they got to fabricate a narrative they know to be fake and contradicts the overwhelming majority? What makes a man tell a lie? What makes a man tell a lie? It’s breaking away. Last spec of your legacy. You will be the scrap in our damaged past. Rising tides. We’re the lucky ones. Closed eyes. Had a good run. Good bye! We’ve been crushed by cruel lies. Our feet are chained to a stone. At the edge of a long wharf staring down below. Our odds look bleak. Dare I say, we’ll make it anyway. Their rhetoric is flawed. It’s bound to break and fade away. It’s breaking away. Last spec of your legacy. You will be a scrap in our damaged past.
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2. |
Battering Ram
03:37
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When the seas turn dark and rise high above the edge of the horizon, I can feel my heart beat inside of my throat. It’s clear to me my situation is bleak. Here comes the panic. I guess it’s out of my hands, I guess it’s out of my hands. As the furious winds ripped through the sails of my craft I should have sensed it. I should have felt it was the end. But it never came and my adrenaline surged up and down my spine. Part of me loves this. Part of me needs this. I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t contain it. I am a battering ram. I am battering ram. Battering ram. Battering ram. With a renewed sense of immortality and strength I settled in for the ride. Lo and behold, I couldn’t possibly have known about the massive/mighty rogue wave. I couldn’t help it. Couldn’t contain it. I am a battering ram. I am battering ram. Battering ram. Battering ram.
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3. |
City Snakes
03:36
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It’s slipping away. I spoke too soon, now it’s in my chest. I can easily say. I can easily say it was never a threat. It’s like hitting a wall. But not impossible to penetrate. Well there’s only so much. There’s only so much you can tolerate. The struggle remains. The conflicts are there by design or we die. An unfortunate truth. We can rise above or take the bait. It’s like hitting a wall. But not impossible to penetrate. Well there’s only so much. There’s only so much you can tolerate. This feels like a pattern. There’s comfort in that. We’re all accidents and broken pieces that don’t quite fit.
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4. |
Fate is Fluid
03:18
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Why does everything sound so corrupt? My insides tearing up. I’m not surprised there’s blood on the horizon. No one’s denying it. Our own apocalypse. We’d save ourselves, but death’s hard to resist. We’re just specs of cosmic waste and dust. Our lives are meaningless. Then why do all of us feel so restless, nervous and pathetic? Horrified and panicked. I can’t believe we’re insignificant. Time drifts as I lay back. I’ve let it slip away. Tried to avoid this, but our fears got in the way. Darkness froze me. Every piece of you lives on transferring energy to the next one. Nothing wasted, nothing lost. You are the catalyst. You’re above
it all.
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5. |
Loyal Camps
03:04
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All my life I’ve felt safe. Walk among fearful eyes. Wide awake. Desperate people asleep from repetition, entrapped by artless minds. Lost in a crowd up until now. This could be our year when the panic clears. Fright’s got a history of tearing us apart. Terror can shape our time to come. Fact is fiction, friend. Haven’t you heard? Believe in what you want to. Lies contained. Crowds form a mob engulfed with information that’s been well sanitized. The great divide. Just in time. It’s coming around - again and again - pounding your will - into cement. Brief relief within our revelries. And we can laugh in the face of death. It’s a cycle. It’s a well laid trap. Endless waves of evidence whisked away by thieves. We can’t help that we’ve been locked into loyal camps.
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Blood Built Empire Somerville, Massachusetts
A 3-piece sonic maelstrom of angular, booming beats mixed with head-bangable riffs rumbling angrily beneath scathing male and female vocals.
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