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As "punks" I thought we'd left the stud/slut hypocrite dichotomy to rot in our 8th-grade lockers. But you're so hardcore - SOMEONE has to suffer your wrath, and this scene is just your stepping-stone to the majors and thus too slippery to take a shot at anybody who deserves it. You need a soft target. Why not some bitch/whore/slut guilty of emotional independence? Your broken heart is as precious as the setting sun, or some bullshit. Just admit it: you're just a fucking jock. Another stupid macho windpants-clad emotion faker, wrapped in emo, wrapped in metal, wrapped in a windbreaker.
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2. |
Sore Thumb
01:27
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I said I'd never let another slur go by unchallenged. I broke my promise and traded responsibility for comfort. I sold out my ideals just so that I wouldn't have to deal with being a sore thumb on sexism's hands - a thorn in the side of oppressive good times. I talk so tough, then turn my head pretending not to see that I am just as influenced by this society as any redneck, asshole, dumb jock, or fratboy. This conditioning virus replicates inside us. We can't escape infection but we can choose to fight it.
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3. |
7 Years Down (The Drain)
02:22
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This town has got to be in violation of some fire code: too many assholes packed into one small space. But I'm not here tonight to talk about the state of the "scene" - here's me spitting in its face. But I don't know what I'm talking about. So I'm told what's what by 19-year-old junkies, kids from Standish, and skinheads taking a year off from school, (as well as) dorks in sweatervests skanking for Christ way past their bedtimes, while their girlfriends hold their coats and drool. But I don't know what I'm talking about. All this time I've wasted reading, writing, trying, failing! I should've been in the back, talking smack and polishing my boots, or doing lines in the backroom of the Fine Arts, or busting heads at the Asylum while waiting for my mom to pick me up. What do you do when your best efforts are buried under 2X3' glossy flyers, bills and disconnected phones? Looks like you all finally got what you wanted - I'm shutting up now. Here's to slick metal walls and the claws of fellow crabs.
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4. |
Maine-ly Bullshit
01:00
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"If you look with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark where the rising tide finally broke and rolled back." So what now? Armored cars and ignorant disdain. Fuck your organic chicken, fuck your bullshit Stepford revolution, and fuck lobster. Vacationland: a core of exclusive stores and hotdog stands, ringed by parking lots patrolled by cops protecting businesses whose workers have never been on a vacation. The simple natives scrambling for the tourists' nickels. "The Way Life Should Be."
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5. |
Let The Backlash Begin
01:35
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Call us P.C. fags, cause we've got our elbows on the table of white male privilege. We're not even smart enough yet to push away but somehow you're still threatened. This is our ode to opportunities blown. To lives predicated on tables that won't turn. Congratulations on joining the chorus, on throwing your two cents in their overflowing bank. Getting called on your shit is not censorship. Would it kill you to show a little fucking respect? Kicking people when they're down may be fun, but when the day is done, you're just a drop in a bucket of shit.
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6. |
The New Synthesis
01:59
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See lyrics from 2005 Dead Air Studios recording.
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