1. |
Boxcutter
03:04
|
|||
Paycheck to paycheck, I'm brain dead and wasted. I'm drained of ambitions, and too fucked to fake it. The only good vow is one left unspoken, the only good window is one that's been broken. All the king's horses and all of his men could never compel me to bend at the neck. So instead, his men ran me down in the street to step on the neck that won't bend til it breaks. A captain runs his own ship. What good's a captain when his own ship sinks? Dust became worm, and worm became man, and man went to worm to become dust again. Don't beg for air, just scream while you sink. Rock bottom's much more like home than you think. Just close your eyes, count down from five, unplug the machine that keeps you alive. Your final delusions of justice and mercy will bleed from your head out onto the concrete. Bite my tongue, hold it in til I can't breathe, spit it back out in the face of everything.
|
||||
2. |
Sleight Of Hand
02:31
|
|||
If suffering is piety, contentment must be sin. At least that's my take away from the holy books I've skimmed. Instead of living day-by-day I'd rather be so vain as to reject the notion that poverty is grace. I'll never be content with merely asking for bread, or preying on the scraps that other men have left. Hopeful words and bad cliches might quench your thirst; but while you stop to smell the rose, I'll tear it from the dirt because life dealt a hand, I went all in. There's no excuse to walk away with everything to win. Not fueled by need or calculated greed, just dreams of biting back the hand that force-feeds. But now I'm wrung dry, with nothing left to give, because no one ever told me the house always wins. I'll regret the wasted years but can't get them back, the winner of a rat race is still a fucking rat. Life tied my hands and forced me to play, but everything I'm dealt is worthless in this game. I'll scrounge and I'll plead until my fingernails bleed, but there are no flowers here. It's nothing but weeds. Life dealt a hand, but I don't have shit because the dealer walked away with all of the chips. Beyond the veil I see a world run by thieves, where no one's entitled to the air that we breathe.
|
||||
3. |
Rabble Rouser
04:06
|
|||
He whispered make me your channel of peace, a hollow prayer on a vacant street. A heart at home has no time to feel pity for the rubble under its heels. Some carry weapons with solemn regard, while others etch them with tally marks. When the knife is plunged into your chest, does it help to know the hand feels regret? You came as gods. When gods spread plague, they always claim it's for your sake. You can't show more than veiled contempt with a yellow ribbon tied around your neck. All the angels heard on high will keep you sleeping and safe at night. All the angels heard on high will keep you lying awake at night. He whispered let's keep this between you and me to the lifeless child on the vacant street. Still you felt them all watching through windows, while you brushed the dirt off of your halo. You came as gods to cleanse this place, but all you brought was acid rain. Just pray it's done. Just hope you're gone. Just pray you're dead before the other boot drops. Undead. Unlike the rest that play through your head. The bullet comes next. It's not enough. And now you'll add one more to your dead. At least you know you never miss.
|
||||
4. |
||||
Snake my path, fall on cracks, but fuck me if I laugh while watching kids skid and fall face-first on concrete slabs. Minutes turn to hours, still I haven't moved an inch. Stuck in place, surrounded by these vicious scooter kids. What can you do when there's 15 of them and one of you? Choke on your handlebars. The death machine runs seven days a week. We won't stop til handlebars line the streets. Tearing flesh, ripping shreds, grinding bones to dust. I don't want anything to be left here when we're done. They should have known the risk when they came out to play. Throw them in, close the lid then grind them into meat. Elbow pads drenched in blood. All these little scooter fucks have ran into my shins for the last time.
|
||||
5. |
Can't Swim
02:29
|
|||
Grab both my lungs and rip them out
I cannot breathe, you never showed me how
Take what you need and give nothing back,
But just leave me the courage you've always lacked.
Nothing left to breathe, emptiness and need
All I see is black, the color that I bleed
Nothing left to breathe, plant a sinful seed
I am not sure why, but every time I try
It's hard to think of water when I'm dying of thirst
You can't pull me under til you kill me first
And if you can't stand the endless sound of my voice,
Remember, despite all this it was our choice
I can't swim
|
||||
6. |
Nowhere to Run
03:43
|
|||
Got a gun and a badge, some time to kill. I'm the servant of a prison with a quota to fill. Just stay in line, you know the drill. I'll beat you down, you'll foot the bill. I'll have no need for wrong or right, when I come to kick down your door tonight. Try fighting back, then I'll be justified in putting and end to your fucking life. You've got nowhere to run. You've got nowhere to run and run and run until your lungs explode and your heart gives out. You've got no hope and no way out, just a boot on your throat and a gun in your mouth. You'll beg and cry, you'll scream and plead, but you already know who the judge believes. The criminals are on the street enforcing their hypocrisy. And you turn your back on one simple fact. We're all guilty in the eyes of the law. We're all fucking guilty and we've got nowhere to run. You've got nowhere to run.
|
||||
7. |
Entitled to Everything
03:32
|
|||
Don't ask me if you owe us a living
Fuck You
We want this planet and everything in it
Don't tell me that I owe you respect
Fuck that
All you've ever given us is jails, wars, debt,
And a "Job" that doesn't pay enough to support me
Eat shit
Freedom ain't free and I'm too broke to afford it
So When you try to sell me on God, Cash and Country
I'll spit it back in your face because your rhetoric is empty
And you roll your eyes
Tell me, I act like I'm entitled to everything, right?
Well, I guess you're right
You're so fucking right
Because we're entitled to everything
One simple demand
All that we want is
The shit on the shelves, but the money's all gone
I'll learn from your example and take what I want
Because everything's cheap when it's shoved up your sleeve
And your bourgeois morality means dog shit to me
It sneers at the hands that reach out for a pittance
Then it grabs them by the neck and commands their submission
So to those who point fingers as if it absolves them
Maybe i'm not the one with the fucking problem.
Entitled to everything
Just pay bills and die
All that we want is the Earth
|
||||
8. |
Pavement
02:55
|
|||
Fuck your boss. Fuck your pastor. Fuck cops, they're all bastards. Fuck your parents and your friends, and anyone who says “Get your head checked!” Fuck congress. Fuck the senate. Fuck the law and all who write it. In a cage, on the streets, or in the ground they'll take everything. From here on out, it only get's worse. So fuck this world before it fucks you worse. They'll take your money. They'll take your home, just to show who's in control. They'll take your children, take your life or make you wield the butcher's knife. So burn a school. Burn the courthouse. Burn the town hall, and burn your church down. Burn a prison. Burn the neighbor's, and leave this place a smoking crater. And when they're done, they'll slit your neck, take everything and leave you on the pavement to die. They won't hesitate to take everything and leave you on the pavement to die. Take everything and leave them on the pavement to die.
|
||||
9. |
||||
It just isn't fun anymore
It just isn't filling
the hole like before
And now all i'm feeling is bored
Watching potential
Join a long list of chores
All it took was a taste
Just a trick of the mind
And now all of it's a waste
So nail all your dreams to the walls
convince yourself you've missed
nothing at all
Reach through the rose-tinted
glass for the head rush
The little red pills
that keep you around
Where is the sound
that brings the crowd running
they wont give up anything
Still Won't try to fake it,
Still don't need to make it,
I don't think the choice is mine anymore
But the weekend is saved
The picture is clear as it gets
Gave up on demands,
So we take what we get
Destroyed by the eyes of the world
And allowing us nothing
To dig ourselves out
Reach through the rose-tinted
glass for the head rush
The little red pills
that keep you around
All of the sounds
That once brought us running
N ow just the anchors
holding us down
i want the sound
to tear me wide open
and let me pretend
we're not just alone
i want this sound
to tear me wide open
and show me we havent
been left to the swarm
|
||||
10. |
Every Gun
05:12
|
|||
I can see the heat rise. I can feel myself die. I never knew explosions were more beautiful than- you don't understand that my mind is completely dry. It's hard to stand when everything I know is built on sand. I've lost all my faith. It's just an empty space. I need you here, or at least just the pity of your embrace. Every gun I've come across cannot make up for the loss of little boys whose parent's watched them die. And yes, I see the irony of all the fighting close to me. I would rather laugh than see them cry. I have seen my friends fall. I have seen their kings crawl. I have seen the way bullets have lead atheists to pray to gods that have gone deaf. Because the only sound that's left is the cracking sky and shrieks of men whose government has lied. As if they can deny the stains upon the ground. It's hard to save the innocent when your hands are always bound. Don't you think you deserve a break, for all the lives you didn't take? Well, guess what, son? This is not the end. We won't stop til we erase the memory of your mother's face and the gun beside you is your only friend. You can't go home. They have taken it away. My mercy's on display with all the rest. My humanity is pinned to my chest. These medals I confess, could stand to weigh a bit less but after all, I'm just a man who was deemed unfit to bless. Every gun swallowed the sun, and spat it back in the face of everyone. For every gun that has claimed none, it's only a matter of time.
|
Down With Rent Connecticut
Hardcore Punk from Central CT. Killing landlords since 2013.
Streaming and Download help
Down With Rent recommends:
If you like Down With Rent, you may also like:
Bandcamp Daily your guide to the world of Bandcamp