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Selective Wreckage

by Crime in Stereo

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1.
2.
This empty space becomes the lines inside your face. It makes an atlas, tracing an accurate map of decades. They decay and fade away, To form the crease of grey increasing in their place. The sunken shape that invades your pretty face is an oasis, A have for your mistakes. Like a keepsake hanging about your fallow frame, Our tiny planets massive weight enables our escape, In sulfur and oxide, Slow drives and long nights. I'm in between everything. Everywhere and all the time, I reside between the lines that divide Your world from mine. I'm in between everything. I've been seeing *** recede At a slow and steady speed away from me... I'm in between everything.
3.
Desertbed 02:02
It's just like a bad dream. Bolt upright at night, trying not to scream. Awake to our backs facing while you sleep. Surface just long enough to breathe, Spines interlocked like faulty cogs in a failed machine. It's like we're just bad friends, Both wasting our time as our picket fence defends all the things we must protect. Pretending that we still can connect is our sole defense As the present tense beings its slow descent. Give yourself away. I am the key; a thin skeleton swaying crookedly, Grinning copper teeth. Come open up for me.
4.
Love 03:25
So wise, so young, do never live long. It seems like I grew up as it grew dark And I decided I no longer wanted to write about what keeps us apart. And I'm not surprised, I've spent all this time just singing "God send cigarettes and purpose to guide this life." And this is what I wanted, but all my prayers distorted. A dream come true and it's nicotine and disappointment. And I'm not surprised. I've spent all this time singing, "God send the softest flesh to ease the stress of this troubled mind." So waded lavishly through sin, traded amnesty for skin... Haven't seen sex and respect in the same place since. Oh, look what nightmares these prayers become. God sent employment, culture, combat to occupy the young. Oh, how the vacant voicemails and anti-depressants can make you forget... I'm nothing without my influences. Nothing without my friends. I can't help but love this life again.
5.
"Boy, you've been staring some... Consumed in the science of the dark." I was following the light from the crimson ghost on your arm. She said, "There must be someone sitting at home, Waiting for you miserably." Well there's not, but there was. She was always down on me. I used to think it was gravity... Now I'm pretty sure it's self-esteem. It still doesn't bother me. Entirely in the silence of the dark she said, "I don't think that Danzig is that cool anymore..." So there she stood half naked, But not the half that gets men dreaming. And she talked about love and the current state of the scene: "I heard it's not as good as it used to be. But we can always smoke out the room And see how many shapes we can twist in fog... Let's stay up late talking about God And those we've loved before, Until we pass out and dream about war."
6.
Takbir 00:46
I am the twenty-two year war of the third Intifada. I am the faithful, the grateful suicide bomber. A daily hajj to a dead end job. Brave to give faith to the non-believers. We'll work. We'll make it work. We'll make them all believers. A daily hajj to a dead end job. Allahu Akbar. The next world awaits
7.
The Bride 03:05
I heard you spent the last six months at an unpaid internship And still then got the news, They had to cut you loose, Profits wearing thin. Since you graduated, you've found the market populated with kids just like you; Business suits, degrees from state schools. I know what you're going through. My academic adviser said she'd line up some interviews. That was two months ago this June. I followed through, turned out she'd been laid off too. Oh Doctor Hildreth, what are we to do? This choice is for life and we can't decide. We are the bride, stripped bare by her Bachelors. We are the wife, unaware of the servitude ahead for all time. Subservient per capita, stand up. Your Bachelors won't earn half the debt that you've incurred. So go call student loans. Tell them "I need another six months... I need some more time to work."
8.
Four X's 02:55
That's some art you've got there. Talk shit on all your friends for things they don't deserve. That first verse was written like it was meant to hurt. Casualties kept in a tally of friends, By the margins of the words you've written. Isn't that embarrassing? To have everyone know all the things you think, But not the courage to speak them. Listen, not everything will be forgiven. That's some art you've got there, Talk shit on all your friends for things they never did. They just exist in your head. You criticized those that sell, then wrote some hooks yourself. So me and her and him and Meehan, Cling to our desks like we're standing on a cliff. And the spectators below are all close friends you've hurt. They stand there with their faces looking up. The winds lift their words as one. They're all screaming "jump." Drive off three girls in three minutes. Listen, not everything will be forgiven. Next time dig your own grave with the things that you say...
9.
I'm still down here. Drowning in caffeine. Carbonated and caustic. I'm scared to death of my TV. Ninety thousand screens over sixty cycle hum. High definition projection of the horrible things I've done. You aren't the bastards of young. You aren't the sad troubadours troubled by modern love. I am the troubled sometimes, living out a b-side... No, I am not dead, but often wish I was. There is no relief, no retreat from this heavy Shepard's crown. I must lead my vast parade of sheep. There are no right answers. I'm still down here.
10.
It could be simple I could be simply not enough Just come around girl Give me a chance To talk me up.

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released September 30, 2008

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Bridge Nine Records Boston, Massachusetts

Started in 1995, Bridge Nine is a label that specializes in hardcore punk, with close to 300 recordings in our catalog. Check us out and keep an eye out for updates!

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