1. |
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Time melted
The formulation of days grew meaningless
The distinction between day and night
This spectre, its edges frain
This spectre, like a heavy cloud
This spectre, its edges frain
This spectre, unseen
Time melted
Time melted
The formulation of days grew meaningless
The distinction between day and night
Time melted
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2. |
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(The collapse of everything)
Digital dictatorship
Stealth Empire
Fear of the unknown
Ambient Abuse
The collapse of everything
Game over
Instability
Unpredictability
Enhanced reality
Harass, coerce, cajole
The manipulative settings of control
Digital dictatorship
Ambient abuse
Abuse by proxy
Considerable charm
Neuroplasticity hijacks your mind
The collapse of everything
Game over
Retreat, cajole, coerce
Threaten, stalk,
Contempt, convince, harass
Manipulate his targets
Malicious rumours
Smear campaigns
Provoking the victim
Colluding, suffocation
Neuroplasticity hijacks your mind
Slavery still exists
The collapse of everything
Information medicine
Digital dictatorship
Stealth Empire
Fear of the unknown
Ambient Abuse
The collapse of everything
Game over
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3. |
Beef Diet
03:21
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4. |
Gold Mine (feat. ONO)
05:38
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“So enter the gates of Hell, to live in there. And indeed, so really evil is the home of the proud.”
Utopia! 1482! Wait For Me In The Gold Mine. 1832. O! John Henry: WAIT! Smallpox Creeping WAIT! Malarial Fossils Wait For Me On Blackwell Island.
Baka-Baka 40,000,000 Slave Patrols Suffocate One Nuclear Herod The Great
Gun Out-Run Empire. Gun Out-Run Doric & Ionic Utopia.
Baka-Baka Progress Sleepwalking Through Rolling Whiteout.
Progress Congealed In Piracy Symmetry Anonymity.
Kneel 1,000 Years & Wait For The Boiling Point 2856°C / 5173°F
Graveyards Heal By Defying Gravity. Arteries Fade Blocked By Necroparalyses.
WAIT! Overfed Carbon Steel Wheels Within Wheels Utopia Dozing Off.
Slow Death: Holy Roman Ideal! WAIT! Intoxicated In Filigreed Subsoil WAIT!
This Metabolic Trust: God! God! Wait For Me In The Gold Mine.
Adam Smith Undersea! Murder Religion Art Science Treason
Thieves Trade And Seal Arms Deals In Dark Flooding Fires
My Everlasting Bourgeoisie Divorcee. Slowly Chernobyl Embraces Me.
Tariff Trade Black Body Babes Protectionist Greed Wait For Me.
Below The Slow Promenade Dystopian Thyroid
Soiled Art. Soiled Temple. Crippled Profiteers
Soldier Ministry Fraud Bloodhounds Pirates Cowboys
Wait For Utopia In The Gold Mine.
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5. |
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|
(In Portuguese)
At breakfast
chop the tips of her fingers
the fat hiding underneath her skin
melts with the heat
crispy bits of flesh
slick on your lips
(English)
she’s been hearing you chew
her bones cracking
under your teeth
mouth hiding behind your hand
you savor this guilt
(In Portuguese)
At lunch
slice the tender flesh
in her thighs
pretend that forgiveness
will sprout from her belly
unannounced
(In English)
your need is an endless string
the imprint of your thumb
still so striking
settled in cavities
uninhabited and unreachable
(In Portuguese)
At dinner
she bites your tongue
laps the warm blood
in a convulsive thirst
then steps aside
beyond these margins
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6. |
Excusable Homicide
03:39
|
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7. |
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|
Oh, they only kneel to confess
Grasping all of God’s breath
Unsatisfied by the fate
They’ll succumb to our ways
She said mercy’s a chore
In catacombs of regret
Caravan to the gates
My baby’s losing her faith
Sinking, one by one
Keeping, with the way of the gun
Mourning, come and gone
Worried, of a dying man’s son
Word of my enlightenment
meant repentance in the valley of the cruel
Say it to my face
Hanging gardens in the grace of the moon
Pleasantries and pardons
Gimme gimme, I’m the bearer of the news
Come on baby burdened by the stranger in the corner of the room
Oh, they only kneel to confess
Grasping all of God’s breath (Oh you’d better ask somebody)
Unsatisfied by the fate
They’ll succumb to our ways (Oh you’d better ask somebody)
She said mercy’s a chore
In catacombs of regret (Oh you’d better ask somebody)
Caravan to the gates
My baby’s losing her faith (Oh you’d better ask somebody)
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8. |
The Aesthetics of Hunger
04:01
|
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|
The aesthetics of hunger
Contain the most noble forms of violence
Peace
Only when the colonial form is silenced
Different type of battle rap
Where cats you know they're coming strapped
For cash with gats to take the land these motherfuckers stolen back
They got beef in the streets
We build the slaughterhouse
St Just at the podium till all the pig heads rollin' out
That means dead heat, a dead beat, our streets
The people are the weapons forged to bring death to the bourgeoisie
Felony raps, poison blankets in the trap
This plague is the new coke rap
Now it's time for the rabid bite back
Quiet dogs yap hard chasin lures round the track
Cuz plague slang is the new coke rap
It’s time to give every poisoned blanket back
They claim we selling crack, but they be doing that
Motherfucker this ain’t back in the day
And you do hear me though
Hey yo, gat scars, rap bars, cop cars burnin’
Let’s claim that whole future space to which we’ve been yearnin’
Claim king with guillotines swing is what we’re bringin
A discourse on colonialism ya’ll
A nation regenerates itself only on heaps of corpses
The last shall be first and the first last
The vessel of revolution can only arrive upon seas of blood
The last shall be first and the first last
In these shadows from whence a new dawn will break
It is you who are the zombies
At the end of capitalism, there is Hitler
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9. |
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|
Rebels by circumstance
We are the natives’ sons
Daughters of the Earth’s damned
The ghosts of Omar Mukhtar
Who still face the hangman’s rope
And the gunman’s scope
But as the wind howls and the day breaks
We wait for the darkness with a blade
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10. |
Addio Zio Sam
02:59
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11. |
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|
Who now no longer had the gift
Where always before in this condition
I had at least a face to wear
Where my face had once been,
now there was many of them
Enumerable really
Like sand lining the bottom of the sea
In total darkness
Aware only of itself and yet alive
Eyes for miles and minds behind them
Each one mined, each fucked
A hole, a geode
Stuffed with the brine of no further future, no dream
Anything else that I imagined happened as if it actually happened
And then I was just here again with one new head
Seven of each, of all new centuries inside it, fully extinguished
No more real than my own ass
Which right now was somewhere far beneath me
Getting drilled with human weapons, the nodes of our history
Knives, guns, ropes, saws, canons, teeth, fire
Devoid of fear
Each intent behind which as much my own as any others
Tied together, buzzing
Incubating, wrapped
I survived the next 1000 wars alone
The battle ground was my deleted body
The munitions were the lives inside each day I could no longer
Crushed and boned
The soldiers were any semblance of emotions I had lived through
The blood that spilled was not blood or even flame
But sound, hilarious infectious ravenous music
Older than the edge of any planet
Each note, uttered so loud it had already ended before it was
Less time having passed than there had been before it
Held contextless
Every inch of every night
The frame around what I was
Not now tighter and tighter
Smaller and smaller
Its darkness thicker than my blood
And at the same time more alive than anything I had ever witnessed
Flowing through me
Growing
|
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12. |
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Algiers Atlanta, Georgia
Algiers is a band of musicians born in Atlanta, Georgia, the rotten hub of the Ol’ American South, where W.E.B. Dubois once saw a riot goin’ on, and where the hell and highwater swirls ‘round to the knees.
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