1. |
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TEMPUS - EDAX - RERUM
The horror of our helplessness. Backwards-action anti-heroes reconstructing the shells we broke out of.
Terra incognita: we seem to survey it the same.
Repeating, expecting ourselves to remain...
We do this ourselves, driving away progression by rehashing the past searching for comfort.
Inside our memories nothing is real, but still we seek substance.
The classic game of leaving the future in ruins (or at the very least, to ruin ourselves.)
A chance to intervene, lost to longing - we could have changed the fucking world, but we were proud.
A generation puts the "no" in nostalgia.
MOVE ON.
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2. |
Orphan Art
03:40
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I, the walking dead hereby proclaim this life to be a mistake.
I was wrested from my chosen plane - and it waits off in the distance. It calls me to my rest, my shelter in the arms of fate.
They breathed me back to life - greedy doctors don't settle for stillborns.
I no longer feel as though I was meant for this planet. It's always been so fucking easy viewing expiration as an end.
Coping with caustic compulsion, and at this rate my body might as well turn over and start beating itself up for me.
I'm ready to die - but not here, not now. This was never where I belonged. I find it hard to recall if it ever felt like it was.
I'm too old for teen fucking angst and too young for a midlife crisis. I'm somewhere in between...
Too scared to pull the trigger, too proud to put down the gun.
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3. |
Sic Amor
06:15
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Hollow eyes roll like dice. Paralyzed, our pilot nosedives and the cabin becomes flooded with debris.
If I'm going down this way, someone's coming with me.
To your right, dying light. Up ahead, you'll see what we have bled.
I want you to want me to want you again so I can not want you and make you want it like I did.
Air drops from overhead - breathe in, seethe out.
Hold onto your hearts - to death do we depart.
(Pull up, terrain ahead.)
Scalding air coming up on both sides. Faux control filling up our heads. Transmissions made to base for guidance - all signals on the panel show red.
Brace.
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4. |
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a. apropos appropriation
The sweet sounds of the foreign man. Our perfect crimes, played out by the captain's cry… we simply can't go on. The play must stop, our mental drive-bys calling out "freedom is for the rich."
b. a dahmer complex
Destroy this earth. The rotten apple of my eye. Worshipping at Midight Mass Destruction - the world takes a bow.
The scenery wilts like your virtues on the TV screen. Everyone you ever knew. Flora and fauna consumed. Terradissection for your misconception.
c. vulture zoo
No motif explained, we're operating on fallacy fuel
(for fuck's sake, you can almost smell the death.)
The perks of courting a blind man are numerous; know your place and don't leave fingerprints.
They're out to get us.
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5. |
Breaking The Fourth Wall
04:31
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You - sprung from the hopeless; the picture of misery returning attack. We want to see you find the enemy you seek, so strike swiftly with the knives you left in our backs.
Dear reader, this story does not have an end - this chapter being written by once was a friend.
You crossed all of our bridges without us; endured passage ways prepared for us all. Three prisoners on paper, so sketched but hoping as we finally break the fourth wall.
Dear reader, the next page is torn. We'll search for those words on the floor.
Gently, deftly, by manipulation, the caustic corrupter descends on our heroes again. Empty threat me. Get "you" out of here.
The episode repeatedly repeatedly penned.
(You can have your interpretation, but...)
This is our book, these are our words, and you can edit it not, or take your third shot at rue.
Faux/foe
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6. |
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There's no appropriate way to start this, so I'll cut right to the chase. The whole world was railing against us.
They tried and they tried, but we kicked down every door, dying our way through life like an RPG.
We wanted to see what a flame looked like, so we immolated ourselves.
We sacrificed, made madness vice, and set ourselves up for failure, but history will be kind, for we intend to write it.
Smiling in the face of a billy club breaking our teeth in,
Allowing the authoratative opposition's influence to seep in
Creating a monster that even their enemies wouldn't sleep with.
History will be kind to us for we intend to write it.
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7. |
Hazmat Holiday
06:15
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a. Ancient Future
Were we better off believing in ignorance that nothing we imposed upon this planet could end us?
The static in the atmosphere grows eyes; its horrible roar crescendoes, deafening.
We won't die alone; we'll be surrounded by the ghosts of the ones we sentenced to death before us.
Connected fatally, we finally admit the bonds abound. We're all the same in ashes.
b. Distant Present
So guys and girls, spread your legs. We've got to plant this new seed to grow a breed incapable of philosophical thought. For every will there's a way, if the architecture is stable and you don't fuck it up.
Our classic features will never match up to the sloth personalities we've chosen to romanticize.
We're passive creatures, and in the wake of carelessness, we seem to care less as well.
Another chance?
My friends, I think we've had enough.
c. Imminent Past
We're set to reverse our progression back to arrows and skin and mud, but for our failures and transgressions, we will be uniformly beautiful.
Is this what you want?
The collapse of all we've moved toward?
A polished face dragging through glass?
This is the sound of us; dangerous materials left to relax.
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The Eastern Condition Patchogue, New York
TEC is a mathcore-inspired band from Long Island comprised of hardcore kids playing metal.
This is their bandcamp.
SICK.
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