1. |
Preface
01:15
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Nuclear lightning will change the sands of time into a wine glass, and when we are blood-drunk we can darkly divine the face of Chronos—who's heart has failed; when the heartbeat of time has stopped, what beat can we march to?
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2. |
Purple Heart
02:43
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This fight is my memento mori.
These armed beastly men
have wounded and surrounded me.
Let my purple heart bleed (please come home now, please come back to me).
These machine guns will not scare me (please come home now, please come back to me).
Now I welcome death.
Take hold of freedom, and
open fire until my last breath.
Let my purple heart bleed (please come home now, please come back to me).
These machine guns will not scare me (please come home now, please come back to me).
I have infinite resignation.
I don't need any anodyne.
Truth is unveiled in affliction.
Let my purple heart bleed (please come home now, please come back to me).
These machine guns will not scare me (please come home now, please come back to me).
Man-made thunder rips right through me. I'm sorry, baby. I won't be coming home.
(Your baby grows inside me; I'm so scared, I can't do this alone.)
So it goes. So it goes.
So it goes. So it goes and I am
gone.
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3. |
Telegram
02:44
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I woke up this morning to go to work. I drank my coffee to start the day. Everything was great or just the same anyway. The telegram came today.
You won't be coming home.
You had such big plans to get a new car,
and I know you needed new clothes.
These liberties you will never see.
You won't be coming home.
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4. |
The Ballad of Hiroshima
03:15
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On the steps of the first financial
I saw God explode from the sun.
It was nothing particularly special.
My mind was erased with the instinct to run.
I was a furious fire from mourning,
My grandfather's bones were cold in the ground.
Both of our candles blew out with out warning.
My name was burned into a book still unbound.
Do you know what they have found,
to split the air we breathe?
All chambers still their rounds,
and swords melt into their sheaths
All of my brothers, they honor me deeply,
Standing in line, with slips in their hands.
Paying to pray and silently weeping,
To rise from the ashes and glass covered sands.
Do you know what they have spoke,
To leave all lights but one?
My flesh was turned to smoke,
At the end of a sizzling gun.
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5. |
Tru(e)man
02:39
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The creation of a nuclear Trinity
is the epitome of man's history?
Tru(e)man is a horror.
Tru(e)man is a fat man.
Tru(e)man is atomic.
Tru(e)man is a little boy.
All that is sacred embraces profanity?
All that is sacred creates profanity.
Tru(e)man is a horror.
Tru(e)man is a fat man.
Tru(e)man is atomic.
Tru(e)man is a little boy.
All that is sacred is profanity!
All that's sacred is prophetic.
All that's sacred is prophane.
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6. |
Intermission
01:20
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If this a sign, what could be signified?
The Second Coming? What is there to come back to?
After this march what can there be?
Our murderous marching legs are infected;
But we'd rather die than be amputees.
These feet, washed in blood,
will plod on until the soil is soaked and barren.
Could living water restore this place?
We drank the Living Water
We still thirst for blood.
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7. |
Beautiful Soul
04:07
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There was a beautiful soul who united the Greek and the Jew,
who made common people priests, united the people and God.
Now there is fire in His name.
The Grand March of history ends in flame
Cracked skin, gray like smoke, shrouds a thin ghastly corpse.
A mournful mountain of telos, a myriad of nameless bones.
Now they are rotting in His Name.
The Grand March of history ends in flame.
Hi(s)story and souls are both named
for their corpses: their rotting remains.
Dasein
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8. |
Unearth
02:52
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I want to unearth the truth, but there are no grounds.
Where would I start? Here? Here? Hear!
He who has ears, let him hear. But so much is written that can't be heard.
Who's He(a)rd(?) The Word? The Word is so ineffable.
In my heart this seems so wrong;
what's a heartbeat, but a song
rising forth from chaos
deafening the logos?
Can this be justice, thousands of blistering rounds
fired at the heart? Here? Hear? Hear!
Can you hear? This is a blood curdling scream!
Scream the Word loud enough to wake the dead!
In my heart this seems so wrong;
what's a heartbeat, but a song
rising forth from chaos
deafening the logos?
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9. |
Soma
02:05
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A Pax Soma,
pleasure is our master.
This isn't Orwell's nightmare
but Huxley's fever dream.
No need for big brother
We're too busy consuming.
We are after history.
We are after history.
A New world order,
resistance is encouraged.
All revolutions are fodder
for the counterculture fashion sector
repackaged,
absorbed,
sold back
to all of us.
We are after history.
We are after history.
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10. |
History is Over
03:44
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A cool kid in a cool car careens down the street, with a cigarette in between his teeth.
Aimlessly appropriated attire adorns his skin; is there anything beneath?
I could never be that guy,
wandering—not wondering why.
Or could I?
Punk promises empowered him to believe in change; only jet black hair remains.
Anarchy assimilated into American pop; and the capitalists stand to gain!
I could never be that guy,
wandering—not wondering why.
Or could I?
History is over! The world is standing still!
History is over! The world is standing still!
Simple and shallow songs sung over two chords can never mean anything.
Simple and shallow songs sung over two chords can never change anything.
I could never be that guy,
wandering—not wondering why.
Or could I?
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11. |
This Eternal Return
02:45
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We're floating free without risk or reward,
unchained from the sun by the mushroom cloud.
The guns we hold at each others heads
ensure our lasting peace.
Instead of fascists and factions we have fashion and fads,
but why dress up if there's nowhere to go?
We're not marching forward so much as marking time.
Our business plan is to roll the dice.
No matter where it lands the result is the same:
our companies now are to big to fail.
Instead of fascists and factions we have fashion and fads,
but why dress up if there's nowhere to go?
I'm a cardboard cutout behind the counter
with plastic smiles I placate the petty bourgeois.
For these people I am merely dressed
for business-casual prostitution.
As scary as this all may sound,
let's embrace this eternal return.
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12. |
Epilogue
02:13
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Now there's a place for everyone in this machine;
either we're at work, at school, or on vacation.
Our time is measured, we'll get our due.
They'll catch us if we fail or fall through the cracks.
Let's just sit in front of the TV,
They'll tell us what to believe.
Let's just watch what's on the TV,
They'll tell us what to be.
This time after His-(s)tory is a gift, afterall.
Who can we repay?
How can we repay?
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Senseless Beatings Charlotte, North Carolina
Weaving together ephemeral semblances of meaning and vainly groping at values, Senseless Beatings is a musical project(ion) of people with no place to go. In spite of recognizing the vanity of their hopes (being-for-other-that-is-being-for-self), they wander about feverishly writing music that never quite satisfies their desires. ... more
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