1. |
Dying - Reflective
02:19
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I’m so fucking sick of beating my fists;
no amount of words make any difference.
Congratulations on saliva spit into a god
damn void.
Drinking in every objection.
Sucking back every contention.
Distracting from every intention.
Ideas not worth the mention.
Fuck this identity, futility in everything -
no it’s not worth it, no it’s not worth it.
Don’t look for me for sympathy, for anything;
I won’t be there, I am not there.
When everything’s conjecture-useless
fucking perspective-I only see agony.
I don’t want any of this.
I don’t need any of this.
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2. |
Dying - Condolences
03:29
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Waving goodbye is the culmination of
years of good conscience; blinking away
energy, maybe something else. Who would
want anything less than dead weight? I’ll
not ask for anything and leave it at that.
Who fucking cares?
There is no truth of consequence.
There is no reason for the will of the
world.
There is no God or hell,
just bitter-alone-worthless.
This is the god damn end,
who fucking cares?
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3. |
Woodwork - Blinded Trust
03:01
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Blinded trust. A closed minded herd.
A so called democracy. Priest of the
established order.
Blinded trust. Surge of the same fucking
hypocrits. Priest of the established order.
Their speeches remind the dark days
of manipulation. Implicit swindling to
protect capitalism.
Burst your eyes, seal your lips, hear their
voice. No one cares you understand but
preserve your hand.
Whoever you vote for, government wins.
The facts justify the means. Same old
speech, taste of rust.
Embrace this fucked up system and watch
it burn. Slowly in its contradictions. The
reign master won over human credulity.
Why need to change? Time shapes the
mass consciousness.
Why need to fight? Time reinforce their
domination.
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4. |
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Cold. Dead body. Pain inside.
Cold. Dead body. Calm outside.
Feeling free through this amount of rocks.
Float near the surface, it’s just the sound
of untroubled water. Submerged by fear,
blood is still running in your veins. No
one can hear you. Caresses on your face -
forget these hateful hands.
Inferiority complex. Male domination.
They rape what they hate.
And now your throat is free. No one can,
can hear you.
Illusion, old pictures, rise up and touch
the cloud layer.
There’s no saver, no love, no time. The
current draws the line. A last tear swallowed
up in the mass. Fraction of fear.
Calm inside. Darkness.
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Hydrogen Man Records Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
Hydrogen Man Records is a small DIY punk and hardcore record label from Philadelphia, PA.
Contact: ironxteeth@gmail.com
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