Resisting The Viral Self (2007​-​2009) LP


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foxblood1 I love the uniqueness of having a combination of gabber/breakcore with emo/gothic music! It fits perfectly! Every song packs tensions of madness into it, giving inspiration to many artists such as myself! Favorite track: I'M NOT A FUCKING DJ!.
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"Resisting The Viral Self" is a rare circumstance of Realicide finally completing an extensive studio album of a highly collaborative nature. In contrast to the project's extensive output of live bootlegs and other very rough material, here is a very defined and focused collective energy from artists across the US throughout late 2007 until early 2009. This body of work includes the lyrics and voices of Robert Inhuman and Jim Swill; the hardware and software electronic music of Vankmen, Ryan Faris (of Capital Hemorrhage), Evolve, and Steven Cano (tik///tik); additional sampling by Simon Severe; and mastered by Mavis Concave. Sonically, "Resisting The Viral Self" ranges from Realicide's established style of very abrasive gabber punk, inspired by certain sects of harsh noise and classic digital hardcore, yet venturing into other means at times, such as dark ambient soundscapes facilitating spoken tracks and delicate sound collages. Lyrically, the album claims allegiance most strongly to the roots of Anarcho-punk and other combative, yet ultimately constructive, efforts in promoting a lifestyle based in equality and the courage to experiment regardless of social pressures (especially against these social pressures). The 12" vinyl holds the essentials of the album, at 17 minutes each side, but the CD format has allowed the material to be doubled, at 48 tracks and filling the disc with as much raw hardcore and industrial mania as possible. Both versions of the album are available in full-color printed jackets, featuring artwork by Robert Inhuman, and are accompanied by an extensive zine. Though a modest stack of xeroxed text and drawings, this zine is completely supplemental to the music of "Resisting The Viral Self". In addition to all technical credits and lyrics, essays elaborating on the content of almost every track are presented, along with essays regarding the ethical philosophies and policies surrounding Realicide in every aspect of its operation. Vinyl stickers are also included with both CD and LP versions. For anyone who has an interest in Realicide and has waited through years of many less coherent bootleg releases, or anyone who has been increasingly hungry for a band that can very directly utilize electronic hardcore as a vehicle for radical and socio-political propaganda, this is an album that can give you what you've been hunting for - with a terrifying vehemence yet an unwavering message of compassion and self-sacrifice. FIGHT THIS HELL. REDEFINE HARDCORE. 29 March 2009, for Realicide Youth Records (1st Edition: 500 LP & 1,000 CD)


released March 29, 2009

CIDE#55 LP / CD constructed November 2007 - March 2009
produced by Robert Inhuman for REALICIDE YOUTH RECORDS
read full credits within the zine that accompanies this album

Mission statement: Realicide, the collective band and publications label of the same name, is our endorsement of anti-hypothetical change, anti-narcissistic agenda, progressive anti-escapism, art as a catalyst for dialogue and interaction, art as a byproduct of a life lived, ethically sober compassion and self-sacrifice as an expression of love, against the hell of human institutions and wants. - Robert Inhuman, 2008

Realicide – Punk’s Not Comfort. The confrontational nature of Realicide is the confrontational nature of this reality itself. The experience of Realicide is not intended to be comfortable, but rather meaningful. This in and of itself is very important. Take any music radiated on the public airwaves lately; its intention is to seduce and comfort but it is never very meaningful. This could be elaborated by innumerable facets of our mind-washed American culture: lil debbies comfort death television video games circumstance burger king blockbuster oblivion. When we remove ourselves from these past realities we can begin to form new realities and the image of the false self can not be held constant. I remember seeing Realicide at a little shitty punk club early on and the people who ran the club and hung out there were, to say the least, not into it. It radiated deep inside me the essence of rebirth and change. Back then it seemed just as confrontational to be a member of the audience as it was to be performing. At this time people were so resistant of Realicide's energy, its refusal to pay homage to dead rituals, its total lack of boundaries, with no obedience to the cultural norm. They hate it. There is no separation between band and audience in the ordinary fabricated sense. Realicide has always been far outside these clinical distinctions. It can not be contained within a boxed reality of what certain people think punk is or what certain people think punk should be and partly what punk has become thanks to people who create these cliché worlds they can drink, grow old, and die in. A faded reality blue as Earth itself. Realicide has always been outside this dying image, this faded flame, this false reality, this wishful arrogance. Realicide was birthed from this death and thus is change incarnate. This is its beauty; its life. With the blood of sacrifice we wash our hands clean... - Evolve 2008


This is the zine compiled specifically to accompany our album, with all its credits and lyrics, but also swarmed with essays describing the motivations and intentions of these songs and the people who've created them. Misinterpretation has been a difficult aspect of Realicide since it first began. I know we can never prevent misinterpretations altogether, but this zine is at least a solid effort to minimalize the margin for misinterpretation. It was inspired very rigorously by every comment we've received about "Hell yeah man, 666, stay evil forever!" or "Fuckin' brutal dude, totally sick!" - and especially by the baffling number of comments we've received regarding Swill's song "Absent Rapist" as an anthem endorsing domination and abuse... When a song with lyrics as clear as "Absent Rapist" gets misunderstood, I think any of our songs can. Nevertheless, if you really want to know what this whole record is "about", here are all its inner-workings spelled out as best we can, in this zine...

Note: As this zine is fairly long-winded at times, I wanted to point out that it is not meant to be read through in one sitting necessarily. It is simply a reference guide when questions come to mind. Likewise for the CD itself, I would actually recommend listening to it throughout 2, 3, or 4 times, so that you do not have to take in an overwhelming length of somewhat wrenching sound. Listening to the album in sections could help it seem less like an overload of mania, and let the ideas and nuances come through one by one. That’s just a suggestion I thought I should offer.



"A vessel for new information that could change the social system that we live in." (Mark Sarich, Lemp Neighborhood Arts Center, Saint Louis)

"...see, it's a great way of promoting the status quo - promoting oppression, promoting prejudice, sexism, racism... any fucking 'ISM you can come up with - promoting it, not tolerating it, PROMOTING IT, using a language that acts as if it's trying to censor it... What a good joke..."
waiting in line for your turn to talk
by the time you've got that microphone you're wasted drunk
and it's not about an idea it's about ROCK
how retro the sound sounds - I don't give a fuck
the same old worn out formula anger
all as good as Halloween with no sense of danger
I thought I could be a part cos I thought I was strange
but in the end to them I'm nothing but a stranger!!!

...when they're different the wrong way...

I'm from Cincinnati where the kids don't care
what the fuck you are saying or why you are there
they just criticize your technique, get all academic on everything or
bitch against your right to exist if they don't understand you immediately
the town I grew up in is bullshit today
and the only kids I can stand are the ones that punk rockers hate
in a fucked up way, too rigid to change, or accept some ideas
like they fucked up on some old age...

through the only few who ignore those games
that's the only acceptance that I've ever found!
it's a byproduct or catalyst at best - a distraction to save my life again - yeah!

punk rock is pop today - fuck you, the same way, every time, right, of course, easy...

we make our own hell - apocalypse or not it's just what we sell
a fist that doesn't move - just propped in the air to patronize the youth
wow, how alternative! it's edgy! it's cute! how retro and authentic - FUCK THAT
like a blank in the barrel - so what? fucking shoot! NO PUNK AIN'T COMFORT!!!

the same old worn out formula anger as real
as Halloween with no sense of danger
I thought I could be a part cause I thought I was strange
but in the end to them I'm nothing but a stranger
PUNK AIN'T COMFORT!!! what else?!

I run into this shit everywhere - I think I'll fit in, but I’m just too square
I don’t feel anything but rejected - well yeah I'm fucking strange
I thought that’s what punks accepted?
through the only few who ignore those games
that's the only acceptance that I've ever found! yeah! PUNK AIN'T COMFORT!!!

I don’t wear my ideals on my sleeve - rejected if my person ain’t easily perceived
you want my identity instantly - lightweight disgusted if you had to talk to me
it’s more than a romantic image of poverty, it's hardcore mentality, it's mental anxiety

"punk rock is just a / VICIOUS BLIND EYE"
"I can see it inside your face...
do I deserve to live?"

I'm looking for your eyes, everybody - I want to know if I'm wasting my breath
but all I see are flickering lenses - everything's a camera and you act like you're deaf

an audience of cameras - so intent to document
so much so that we bypass feeling - anything at all - yeah fuck it
clicking buttons instead of really - listening to what is right
in front of our faces, so after it all what do we got??
a million sterile token memories of shit that isn't what it seems on a screen...
turn to find console in your friend but all you're met with is another machine!

(let me explain)
supposed to preserve experience but it just replaces experience!
that photogenic twenty-first century game - cutting corners with your sincerity...
your friends don't give a fuck - not really
they'd rather see you as a URL and a password and another fucking number
does that make you feel good? how the fuck do you deal with that?
or do you react? DO YOU EVEN REACT?
even right now you aren't hearing this
you're fucking with a cell phone and might as well not be here...

an audience of cameras - so intent to document
so much so that we bypass feeling - anything at all - yeah fuck it
clicking buttons instead of really - listening to what is right
in front of our faces, so after it all what do we got??
(what does it mean when we learn to be alright with)
everything's a camera...
"That spider, why are you afraid of it? Because it has eight legs?
Because its mouth moves from side to side instead of up and down?
If it came toward you what would you do?"

"This..." (man crushes spider under boot)

"Exactly, as you'd destroy anything you didn't understand..."
Track Name: AUTONOMY
your crusade isn't mine - your jihad isn't mine
xenophobic on each side - your hate is defined by pride

unless you accept a nation's children as fodder for a gun
that backfires and bloodstains our decisions
it's foreign - it's domestic - the same either way - victims

but am I among these "victims"
when I got a brain in my skull and warm blood in my body
can I really claim I ain't a cell in the system
when I had reach to the resources that could stop that gun from firing?
when I had reach to the resources that could keep my conscience from dying??
when I have access to a solution I call compassion combined with REALLY TRYING???

your crusade isn't mine - your jihad isn't mine
I'm not pacified just cos I'm not the one who's next to die
(what difference should that make?)

"in full force"
...when winning is based on ethnocentric death
in our fucking civilization, based on who is left
after a game called genocide and another familiar one called wealth
burning to death in oil, so a few sociopaths can keep their good health

what could I have access to and would I grab it even if I did?

your crusade isn't mine - your jihad isn't mine
xenophobic on each side - your hate is defined by pride
your crusade isn't mine - your jihad isn't mine
using god as your alibi - you don't speak for me when you lie
your crusade isn't mine - your jihad isn't mine
I'm not pacified just cos I'm not the one who's next to die
(what should that matter?)
Track Name: IF I AM HUNGRY
"I try to quit while I'm ahead..."
"We must shape a new mentality... People must be trained to desire; to want new things even before the old have been entirely consumed; from a needs to a desires culture..."
"...but I notice that I'm already killing."

fuck my whimpering body - that shell that would cripple those of any it could
I know that it would - this - my human body
manipulator and each time terminal mutilator
manifest viral extinguisher of itself and anything else
leave the choice to me and it's the zipper closing on this world's body bag
point of no return - point to prove to whom?
...til there's nobody left to use or gloat to
fuck my whimpering body - let it be a sacrificial tool
celebrate our death in order to honor all life on Earth
celebrate our death as a cure for a plague of all unjust hurt
wash away a failed species

"...a supreme conception that suffering is a mistake, or a sign of weakness, or a sign even of illness, when in fact the greatest truths we know have come out of people suffering." (Arthur Miller)
I don't care what you say - you don't give a fuck about me
no matter what you said before - one in a million, hell nah just one among millions
(no matter what I said, pretend it don't mean nothing to me)

use me for my money, use me for my car,
use me for my cock, use me for my credibility
cos it's been a fucking lifetime since I felt anything at all
one momentary touch of your body even though you won't look at me

use me for my money, use me for my car,
use me for my cock, use me cos I'm easy
you wanna get fucked and you'll ask me to fuck you
under one condition that I'm not allowed to love you
pretend it don't mean anything, that it's just some time to kill
so I'll accept it for a taste and pretend I don't love you

…what about when I can't even feel pain
while I'm fucking you just once and I don't fall in love
growing old as fuck and courting affection with hate
this isn't at all how I wanted or what I dreamed of
left alone in a parking lot
ain't got not insane angel to touch my skin
left alone with my fucking thoughts
and they don't impress me, not the way they once did
"It's part of the whole ideology of this age, which is POWERMAD."

you're just a middle finger in the face of fucking nobody
you're not shocking to anybody and your mom's not fucking here
pretend it's anarchism - but it's a personal agenda not even well hidden
your ideas don't mean shit much more than some unarticulated fear
"so fuck you"

back your slogans up if you want to represent a politic
or just shut up - shut - up - and admit your hardcore band don't mean shit
"so fuck you"

if you're trying to speak for all of us you're going to need something much better to say
but you spend your energy on a personal agenda in that sabotaging fucked up way

so fuck you kid, and fuck the authority you struggle to invent
(cashing in on anarchism)
I jump into my death machine
and I immediately forget what this world was meant to be
and despite any moments of beauty and fragility
my life has no value in my death machine

indebted to convenience, and stubbornness, and even subtle greeds
when I try to look away, this machine can make hostages of anything
we each must work each day, no matter if we enjoy this working
just to scrape to pay for the maintenance of a weapon and a deathwish

but of course more than just a wish, this death machine is our religion
or rather one callous bible accessory to the religion that is our humanity
an origin not of death itself, but of its association to perversity
an origin not of death itself, but of the arbitrary on/off switches of our machines
an origin of machines, and their uncompromising lack of life
inventions that bypass compassion, inventions that degrade everything
an origin of ownership, of "point to prove", of disharmony

I jump into my death machine
I try to quit while I'm ahead, but I notice that I'm already killing.
you say music has no power to inspire social action,
but isn't it true it's got the power to pacify and prevent social action?
I'd rather try to make a mark on this society (whose society?)
than ensure it remains on its current course

(You're right. I hate dance parties.)
entertainment is a tool as dangerous as a machine gun
who you gonna point it at and will you kill them when you do?
entertainment is a tool as dangerous as a machine gun
who you gonna point it at and will you kill them when you do?

and I believe music is a historically potent catalyst for social change
though it's not the change itself
and hardcore isn't necessarily about music as much as a vital spark
do you ever wish you were in a place where people might listen?
cos they won't here - I promise you they are drunk one way or another;
I promise you they don't give a fuck;
I promise that the only reason this matters is because it doesn't matter...

my entire life is not a vacation - NO!
and I'm NOT ALIVE TO BE PACIFIED - I'm not alive to wish I had died!
will you be on my end of this gun - RIGHT NOW
with a trigger that can break the silence - RIGHT NOW
my entire life is not a vacation - NO!
and I'm NOT ALIVE TO BE PACIFIED - I'm not alive to wish I had died!
will you be on my cide of this gun - RIGHT NOW
with a trigger that can break the silence - RIGHT NOW
(Right now I'm in France at another braindead dance party.
I wish I was in Saint Louis, I wish this mattered.)

"Be a vessel for new information that could change the social system that we live in."
(sounds of clicking keyboard, heavy breathing, footsteps far away)
Woman: Honey? (from upstairs)
(typing becomes rapid, sounds of very distant lo-fi moaning and groaning, one heavy breath is taken, sound of footsteps coming down stairs)
Man: (very under breath) shit…
(groaning abruptly stops and a hard click is heard)
Woman: Hey hon’? (very close)
(sound of seat being turned around)
Man: Yeah?
Woman: Are you coming to bed soon?
Man: Yeah, I'm just really busy right now.
Woman: Well you always say that, you spend all night down here in the basement on that damn computer like some sort of vampire...
Man: Look, I’m just in the middle of something.
Woman: Fine, that’s fine, you'll be up later?
Man: Yeah, I'll be up later.
Woman: You're not still playing those internet gambling games are you? Now I don’t want some bill collec… (cut off)
Man: NO... no I haven’t played that shit in months.
Woman: Okay babe, I'm just saying, things like that can be really addictive...
Man: I know, but if you don't mind I'm kinda busy.
Woman: Oh yeah, I'll see you later tonight?
Man: Yeah, of course, I'll be up soon.
Woman: 'K hon’, goodnight. (sound of kiss)
(walking up steps, door closing, heavy breathing starts, clicking keypad and mouse, groaning is turned back on except sounds more violent, heavier breathing and swallowing)
Man: jesus...
"YOU! - Fuck You!"

you watch them cringe in fear and clenching your cock harder
you thirst for something more than most porn has to offer
sexually eroded - morally corroded
lustfully devoted to a world that is pure fiction
psychotically worshipping your own dirty addiction

you used to just take minutes but now it's taking hours
to get it off you gotta get your own small dose of power
through more and more rape sustenance your heart and soul devour
pixilated cunts and dicks - their pouty faces cower
what’s always been inside you is expressed in pixel fiction
the lust for death and power-madness clicked with all conviction

a wife that’s left with nothing but a sleepless empty bed
so distanced so far from your family you might as well be dead
you watch them fuck like dogs and rape like rape's a fucking business
you gotta get that terror in their eyes in every instance
you like to think they want the pain, you gotta fuck them faceless
you wanna be their lord and master - you’re the absent rapist
a wife that’s left with nothing but a sleepless empty bed
so distanced so far from your family you might as well be dead

you’re a dominator - a real Xterminator
a sucker for those lonely helpless weakened plastered faces
you're a faceless phantom far away their absent rapist

alone and feeling nothing but the joy of empty ends
all those girls to give you what you want - every night - it never ends
you gave up hope to ever find a bonded decent lover
now you’d only want a girl if you could stand above her
who knows where all these girls come from to be bought and raped and traded
always looking vacant as they stand before you naked
this virus is so common in our sex drenched generation
where all the love you feel is pure is pure imagination

you’re a dominator - a real Xterminator
a sucker for those lonely helpless weakened plastered faces
you're a faceless phantom far away their absent rapist

your wife, your mother, neighbor, and even your own daughter
all make you sick to look at because you only see in vulgar
now its faceless, tasteless, bleeding through into your body
until your drug is not enough to keep your heart from rotting
it's only a matter of time before it becomes your normality
your absent rapist mindstate transfers into your reality
you’re a dominator - a real Xterminator
a sucker for those lonely helpless weakened plastered faces
you're a faceless phantom far away their absent rapist
"What happens to music within a consumerist system? What happens to LISTENING within a consumerist system? How it's reduced; how you are incapable of appreciating anymore. You just look for what's familiar; kind of almost an animal pleasure. The system requires of you to shut off that judgment about what is actual quality. They want to decide for you what it is so that you'll buy it. So those decisions are not based on intrinsic information in the music they're based on what kind of clothes the person is wearing, what do they look like, and do they have celebrity. You no longer listen to the music to decide if it's any good; it MUST be good because it sold so many copies..." (Mark Sarich from an interview in 2006)

"You have to know that modern man often tries to work off his frustrations by spending on self-gratification"
(privilege... that abundant overflowing privilege... what you gonna do with it?)
have you ever been hungry and ain't shit you can do about it?
what if that was every day - not everybody is fucking rich
(your privilege and your attitude makes me sick)
fuck your world addicted to jokes and numbing games
like this world is so safe that we can indulge like it is
that insistence on luxury and that vicious BLIND EYE
makes me sick and I'm fucking up against it!
(same ultimate bastard in the city of angels)
NO, I'm not a fucking DJ!
paid in cash and sex and cheap laughs - fuck you - I'd rather be an electronic Crass
use my body like a knife and fucking slash cos that's the only way I know how to dance

you look like a fucking zwinky - I'd rather look like I ain't got shit
cept some conviction in these chipped teeth and I'm gonna fucking spit

my voice - my name - I am more than a buzzword
try to commodify me - you'll be sorry and I won't get paid
cos I'm not a fucking DJ!

I'm not a fucking DJ! I'm not a fucking DJ!
NO WAY! (you make me sick) NO WAY! (you fucking slime)
I'm not a fucking DJ! I'm not a fucking DJ!
I'm not a fucking DJ! NO WAY! NO WAY!

“…I’m with Vankmen!”
(passive observers just nod in shame)
protest all you want - it's ineffective and boring
passive observers just nod in shame - they have no voice in your sob story
get them to agree (just words) so fucking what
still ain't got no resource to make this mean a fuck
did you want to have voice or do you just want to complain
did you ever actually intend to cause anything to change?

first of all - convince me I should care
but more important - show me how I can matter...
Track Name: CAN'T RELATE?
the romance of identity, the romance of death
all parts of my youth that I'm beginning to regret
cos I see so many others just to caught up in themselves
by marketing their suffering, set in stone their way of hell

I see so many artists that just do it for their culture
no passion in the material - just an audience of vultures
incestuous and elitist - ignorant and bored
always tally up the score - next in line to play the whore
where we all get our rocks off by channeling an angst
that isn’t even there - punk rock is just a prank
at first I felt abandoned when I just couldn’t relate
to the causes that have no basis - just unfiltered senseless hate
when there’s to much time exerted for the sake of all your clan
and you don’t even know yourself by the time it's too late and you’re a man
not a man any true respect, a child inside at best
not enough time to look at your mind - too much puffing out your chest

proud amongst your crowd and insecure when you’re in public
cos your character is comic and you hate it but you love it
it's not real, can't you see? we are simply circumstantial
we can’t base our lives on others' art and music as substantial

how many people will I cross so willing to die?
each day is cruel monotony, creeping slowly by
and all I ever wanted to do was make a break for it
but now that I'm running I can already see that
the only thing that needs to change is what’s inside of me
fantasies of culture and cause, of iconography and leadership
someday I’ll be nothing but dust and the metals we use for murder all just old corroded rust
and what I thought was love was just chemically created lust

it's time for the better way I've always felt dormant in me
give up the ghost of permanence - accept myself as momentary
I will not live forever and I will not die a waste
my words and spirit passed on to you as the soil covers my face
I won’t be congratulated for being born with the right skin
we can’t desire someone else’s eyes or skeleton
and even if there’s no one there to watch us laugh or crying
at least we won’t be lying - at least were fucking trying
Track Name: NOT ENOUGH
"In order to love eachother and be equal with eachother, we have to destroy the kind of government that keeps us from asserting our positive values of life."

It's not enough to just not kill yourself.
"It's about 'change'..."
"It's at that party level, because people are confused by social change versus politics, which are not the same thing, in fact I think they're probably the opposite..."
"Is it wrong... to give people what they want... by taking away their defenses?"

"These words mean nothing to anyone anymore... They have no other choice but to just claw that all down and control every single facet of the media that they can possibly get ahold of. They're trying to reincorporate all these elements of part revolutions; basically commercialize them; dull them down and deaden them. Kind of just drive them into the ground until these words like 'revolution' and 'revolt' become meaningless over a while. They're thrown on things like car commercials; they're thrown on a McDonald's slogan like 'a hamburger revolution' - These words mean nothing to anyone anymore..." (Jim Swill from an interview in 2006)

"They never questioned the reality... they never questioned that it might itself be a source of evil, or something to which you could not adapt..."
"Choose what you want them to choose."
"What it takes to change..."
macho insecurity, macho insecurity, macho insecurity, you can't stand yourself!

I never want to make music that will appeal to redneck jocks in polo shirts
get that hatemonger shit out of here - go kill eachother someplace else
don't get me wrong it'll be great when you're all dead
but we can't let you fuck us up in the process
hey you big cowards - go die someplace else - with something to prove
like greedy animals ramming your heads and pissing on eachother
get the fuck out of here!
I'm just another P.C. faggot
watching your joking intolerance turn to endorsement
fuck your suburban hell of accidental bigotry

I'm just another straightedge asshole
and if I don't live like you I must be a threat to anybody like you - right? RIGHT?

your assumptions are pathetic - insecure and anorexic
you'll always hate my guts cos I've got the strength to give a fuck
violence, for no reason, other than to impress
violence, you wanna dominate, without an argument, just blind threats

macho insecurity = you can't stand yourself!

your assumptions are pathetic - insecure and anorexic
you'll always hate my guts cos I've got the strength to give a fuck
violence, for no reason, other than to impress
violence, you wanna dominate, without an argument, just blind threats
hey! drugs! who wants to talk about drugs
hey! beer! who wants to talk about drinking
oh fuck! TV! let's review these TV shows
what you doing after work? gonna get fucked up and pass out in front of the TV.
gonna buy cable and I'm gonna buy some weed
I'm gonna buy a eightball and some sitcom DVD's
gonna spend my free time talking about drugs I wanna buy
why lie? it's what I'll do until I die (the sooner the better)
Track Name: I HATE BARS
I'm not supposed to be here. You're right... I'm not supposed to be here.
I hate rave sound systems - all bass - no substance
drunk in another way and we're on at 5am so I gotta wait.
don't talk to me about music - don't talk to me about the way you spend your time
you fucking slime - but not like sexy, what I mean is I hate your life

working long hours to pay for cable TV - suck your friend’s dick
he plays guitar you know - he can fucking solo - while you flip through channels
"wait, go back, that was MTV2, no I don't like MTV either but wait I like this video the singer finally lost weight and I just bought pants like his..."
"He was watching his favorite TV show..."
"Political systematic waste of resources, of technology and the productive process..."
"They had turned the population into unwitting participants in a system of planned obsolescence..."
"Planned obsolescence." - "Systematic waste of resources."

"There are some things in our society, some things in our world, to which I am proud to be maladjusted." (Martin Luther King)

" the notion that you could buy an identity replaced the original movement notion that you were perfectly free to create an identity, and you were perfectly free to change the world and make the world anything you want it to be..."
Track Name: PURPOSE
I’m right - you’re wrong
I was born to elevate some things - others I was born to torture and destroy
we hate eachother - you despise my way of life - I hate yours 100%
everybody now just look at the Earth
I'm right and it's my identity, it's my job, my career to destroy you
Track Name: GOT YA BACK
love changes, a thug changes, and best friends become strangers
turned your back - stabbed in the back - got your back
but you're best to watch your front - who's gonna kick you in the guts
trust versus luck - when I had your back why'd you let me get fucked?
Track Name: NO PHONE
no phone - no friend - no nothing - nothing to do
no phone - nobody - no nothing
I got nothing to think of - nothing to do

drown here in the basement - at least I can say I got a room
ain't got no windows - and ain't got nothing fucking at all to do
words bucking at me in such a way that stamps out every tear welled up in my body
(to relate to) wrenched out a bath of tears until dry (to know the words another may use)
all I say is an advertisement for a secret or alien pain - to relate to a vague deja vu
but still alien and ultimately desolate (but alien, unknown, and truthfully alone after all that)
"A very sadistic..."
your tiny body crushed - taste of blood - taste of blood
and I'm sorry - the perfect - can't touch hands like this
"...and bad species."
In the dance club I saw wolves bear teeth. Drunken and rapist.
All 1970's retro overload, fashion overtones that alienate me. Womens' hands touch you all over.
Every step you take a hand runs down your body somewhere. Anonymous Aryan orgy.
Trying so hard; everyone forcing forcing forcing; painfully squeezing the conformity heart;
clenching out all its blood over their child minds; sexual and blunt.
A girl says "spread the news, I’ll spread the legs." Camera phones and I-pods galore.
Washing over flesh with bleach and hard cleansers.
Taking sandpaper to scrotums and high-pressure hoses to vaginas;
all waxed and ready for semi-child pornographic fantasies; hipster slick grime.
But course it's unspoken; nobody dressed so clean could be so polluted right?
Cigarettes held, big smiles whine, phones out and on, texting while gabbing lies.
A few lies hear and there and throw down.
Guts swoll with liquor. Dicks soft and flaccid. Pussies dry and resistant.
But thru the drunk haze it remains the aim held out over the edge
waiting to choke on oily ejaculates and colognes 30 years down the line.
Shotgun suicide in midlife crisis. Youth wasted on desperation.
Empty and brightly lit. Aryan orgy hipster fucks.

"There are very many reasons why most people prefer to live in the age just behind them. To live right on the shooting line, right on the frontier of change and so on is terrifying." (Professor Marshall McLuhan)
(talking about that automatic ACCIDENTAL NIHILISM...)

no shit-talking! no condescending! don't talk down to me!
I was never like you! you weren't like me!
we're nothing like you - we don't want the shit you want or do - no misrepresentation
envious and boring fuckers - envious and boring
I was never like you - you weren’t like me
glory - aimless glory for what - fuck you - count me out
what do you believe in - you don't have shit to show
what do you believe in - nothing - a default - a defense - lazy old fuckers
born brats, born fucking old - can't keep up so you gotta talk shit
fuck you - I quit - I can move on - can you?
what else do you have - nothing - a default - a defense - absolutely nothing
you can't keep up - you're dead to me - rotting in the dullest shit in Cincinnati!!!

hobbies can fucking suck it and sound for sound's sake fucking sucks too
don't you waste my time - tell me tell me tell me what - all you say or do is shit!
why are you here in my fucking face - careful to keep every word you say vague
you're scared I'll find out you're still figuring shit out
who the fuck isn't if they ain't it's a lie yeah - all you say or do is shit!
and expect me to automatically put up with it
tell me tell me tell me what you're doing to lift a single life up
vague - scared - desperate - I won't stand by this!
“…right… but nothing seems to change… sit around waiting for a holiday…
I’ve got a mess I can’t reject inside of me…” (Babyland 15 July 2006, at The Smell)

say it easy but you're so far away - I have no idea when I’ll be back
my only chance, my only idea, out of reach, of all things by physical distance
the power to dissolve my interest (in the past)
I hope the distance can force me to find a way, I gotta get out, I gotta get back...

I'm not looking for handouts - I know I'm too old to beg
though I ain't got much to eat - but still not sucking down drugs

did I fuck up my chance with you cos I'm not drunk every night
I did everything I said I'd do but the shit you said to me didn't last
I don't give a fuck what I must taste like
when you got who knows what up your nose
and really fucking fast change your plan for tomorrow
as long as you're warm it don't mean shit if I'm cold

punch me in my chipped teeth - I feel good as fuck tonight
got a destination and a dare to set shit right
you know I thought I'd be dead - I remember when I thought I was
but I got a reason and a energy straight ahead
gonna be homeless but I got no pain just cos
I'm coming to LA and I'm gonna see you there alright
my body is a bullet no matter what the fuck I look like
got a destination and the heart to hate where I've been
I'm coming to LA and I don't care what happens
I don't care what happens...
(imagine the cuts every night)
"I wanted to live a different life..."

want runs so thin - finite in every way
I feel drained - I feel close to dead - whatever that means

"A different life that wasn't available to me in the image I was born."
stop fucking calling me - in the middle of the night
I told you I wish you were dead - stay the fuck out of my life
and your memory of me will be the knife turning in your guts forever

I don't want to know you're alive - you'll never be a friend of mine
you crossed a fucking line - deranged daydream of murdering you
but I know I'll still fucking dream about you tonight
(my enemy, my devil inside my bitter crippled head)
I am about to kill the sound man
'don't touch that dial we'll be right back after this'
what the fuck are we paying you for?!
so again you wanna rob me - try robbing your own fucking body from the hospital
Somebody told me if you have enough "friends", on Myspace I mean, you can get signed with a fucking record label. Automatically.
"The corporations had realized that it was in their interest to encourage people to feel that they were unique individuals and then offer them ways to express that 'individuality'. A world in which people felt they were rebelling against conformity was NOT A THREAT TO BUSINESS."

"I will punch you in the face!"
Track Name: BRICKWALL HARDCORE (spoken)
"I wanted to live a different life that wasn't available to me in the image I was born..."

microphone bruises - I feel like I'm drowning so I count each minute
deadline - time's up - black exit - let's go
I can't take this world no more - I never liked games and I feel it swallowing me
tear at digest me every minute - electronic cage
each word and touch pierces my clothing and skin

companionship is the gun at the back of my head
companionship is a bleeding cut on my body while I give her head
companionship is the taperecorded glass breaking and marrying my skin
I can't stand being alone with my thoughts but when I'm with you I know I'm just wasting them

every time stuck in a pit - thinking I wish this was REAL CIDE
then immediately thinking I wish Realicide was something more - something better
didn't you hear me gasping? did you wonder what the fuck I'm trying to breathe in!!!
scraping and clutching like I'm gonna radiate an exit - like I'd be a doorway
lord look at me drowning in my thoughts - my brickwall hardcore
look at me as that junkie for more or that shell starved dry or
that demented fiend - forgot what I was hoping for

every day is all night - even when I'm sleeping, caked in the friction of my mind
I dreamed of a kid stabbing another kid like an assassin
am I an assassin or did I just get stabbed?

plague in my head - terminal - echoing continuously
crippled decisions drunk on isolation
plague dragging my legs every step I try and make
invading my guts with every breath I try and take
repossessed - replaced - renamed - erased
I found out anything can be erased
and so I'm scanning for betrayal on my best friend's face
you'd bite my face when I lean to kiss you...
...and they'd say, if they could ask you,
"Did you really wanna die?" Fuck no, I wanted to feel alive!
They’d say "Did you really wanna die?"
Fuck no - I wanted to feel alive... Just a slow agonizing DEATH.

Comatose. Unaware. Trapped inside your body!
Trapped in side the hospital! Trapped inside those people who will never know you!
To die in a place so alien to me! I just can’t understand - so many dead on a sterile bed.
And when you die they’ll just clean it off and let another person die in the same bed.
Tied up to machines... I just wanted to feel alive...
So many people... so many people will say that it’s crazy...
It’s just something we can all relate to.
Did you really wanna die? Fuck no, I just wanted to FEEL ALIVE!
I just wanted to HAVE CONTROL! I just wanted to take hold of SOMETHING!
Everything forced upon us. Everything forced into you.
The medicine... All that medicine that never does shit!
And though they’d try to call you crazy. I’m sure they’d call it crazy.
I’m sure they’d always call it crazy. It's jus something I can feel as well
But there must’ve been a better way out of this...
Just waiting, just waiting, waiting, waiting wondering if you’ll die!
Wondering if you want to! Wondering if you have to! Wondering if its better!
Will it be better somewhere else? Wherever that might be...
Just another grave that no one comes to visit.
Just another name that everyone forgets.
Just another moment that everyone regrets they had to share! Well no one cares.
And I stood there in that line.
I wondered if their tears were real, or if they just felt fear for their own selfish selves?
You wonder if anyone would care...
Just another name, another name that I didn’t choose!
On my grave that I didn’t want! Buried in the ground...
Taking up more space than I did when I was alive...
Dying as a lie; a testimony to all this bullshit!
Just another pile. Another fiend for worth.
Just another glorification of just my body... I’m not that body!!! You’re not that body!!!
And I stood there in that line. I watched them all cry.
And then I watched them laugh an hour later as before.
Didn’t really feel like anything to them... Does it really feel like anything to anyone?
And I think of all the kids that I’ve heard doing the same thing in the same neighborhood
and no one gives a shit and no one does a shit about it - no one gives a shit about them!
Just another kid. Just another case.
Just another number. Another bad memory they have to erase
A product of suburbia. A product of dementia.
A product of the same old shit. A product of repetition...
You crashed into that window! And you gave them a taste of what they fear!
And I know they call it crazy! And I know they’d call us crazy!
But anyone can relate! Deep down inside! Everything they try to hide! Exposed...
Everyone’s so fragile. And everyone’s afraid.
Everyone thinks out there that everyone’s got it made.
But all those kids, just suffering inside.
Sleeping on their comfortable beds. Just living out a lie!
That their parents gave to them. That their country gave to them
Aren’t they happy aren’t they happy aren’t they happy? No they’re fucking not!
Because they lack anything real! Anything that’s real! And they know it!!!
Sterile - sterile just like that hospital!

Another card house dealt. Another thing they’ve built.
Another card house built. For those people. For those graves.
For those walking graves! Those living graves!
Movies are only made of rockstars; of people with troubles to a certain degree.
We watch the screen and think 'why not me? why not me?'
Because my body is decaying faster and I'm running out of time;
each precious second documented line by tiny line.
I can see now I'm just as much as a poet as the marine or the taco bell,
as a painter or a police officer, I just write it down.
Art communities fade worthlessly; arrogant with ignorance; acceptance of abstractions;
exaggerations of the simplest ideas; confused to mislead you believing there's actions.
In this entropy we call a scene. In this coffin we call a carnival.
Bread and circus, bread and circus, in the end its empty hungry, worthless.
Birthless cultures simply built from nineteen-anything retro chum.
Waiting our turn in line after line for a place in the flashbulb sun...
"...we livin' in comfort yeah but what is the cost? And we livin' in vanity yeah we live in a box. And we recycle our loss; we gain but it's loss... Loss... really it's loss..." - Evolve

"All media are extensions of some human faculty, mental or physical. The wheel is an extension of the foot; the book is an extension of the eye; clothing is an extension of the skin; electric circuitry is an extension of the central nervous system. The extension of any one sense displaces the other senses and alters the way we think, the way we see the world, and ourselves. When these changes are made, men change. Literate culture is visual and detached. It created the civilized man; the de-tribalized man; the man who is not involved. And the effect of the electric revolution is to create once more an involvement that is total." (Professor Marshall McLuhan)

"...and fear is their weapon. Fear is the control factor's greatest weapon. And love destroys them. Love we force it in destroys them. And love is more powerful than guns and bombs. And love is more powerful than guns and bombs. And love is more powerful than guns and bombs. And love is more powerful than guns and bombs..." - Evolve

"In other words taking ownership of who you are... and how you act... and how you feel... your whole being in the world... in other words giving you AUTONOMY."
"It was society that made these drives dangerous by repressing and distorting them."
"It created the civilized man; the de-tribalized man; the man who is not involved."
Track Name: LIE
decide… decide whether or not to lie