1. |
It's Not You, It's Them
03:24
|
|
||
|
IT'S NOT YOU, IT'S THEM
All done in your best interest:
They clutter through what’s pure in you
Pin you down, screw it in, wear you thin
They go in easy … Go in easy …
Cold hands … Shake hands …
Cold hands ...
Shake
You see, my dear
It’s never you
You’re sometimes here
Real comfort
Lies in cruelty
Demented love
Somewhat motherly
Cold hands … Shake hands …
Cold hands ...
Shake
You see, my dear
It’s never you
You’re sometimes here
But in the end
It’s them
It’s always them
The faces that you wore
They weren’t yours
And all those pieces missing
Where did they end up now?
When you’ve shed enough skin
They’ll build a brand new you
You see, my dear
It’s never you
You’re sometimes here
But in the end
It’s them
It’s always them
(The end)
|
||||
2. |
Bookburner
03:15
|
|
||
|
BOOKBURNER
Out burning books
Like a crossed out visionary
Dead in beat and dead in weight
Digging for clues in wet soil
Dragging feet in cement shoes
Fired up some crutches
Ran out of wood
When all it takes
To get my ten minutes
Of warmth
Are old books
Inked in bad blood
Frigid hands are thawing
This busy furnace
Will have to do
As a lobotomy
As my lobotomy
And if life is a wheel
This is the detour
Walked a narrow path
Along crooked roads
Climbed the hills
Through their catacombs
Got lost in worlds
Built on last rites
Erasing restricted parts
Of wayward documents
I’ll wipe the slate clean
I’ll cut the noose
And shift the blame
To clear my name
A bookburner
A personal
History
Revisionist
A bookburner
|
||||
3. |
Lines on a Trail
04:13
|
|
||
|
LINES ON A TRAIL
By default
As we get built
We get lost
In fake blood
And surprise endings
Because our night, it itches
Though we can never call it our own
Because when the lights go off
That’s when the body, it -
It stops
We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in a movement
We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in this moment
Like lines on a trail
Beating hearts in ragged forms
Wobbly skeletons in crowded closets
As motions become fractured blurs
And we cling to your hands
Too afraid to let go
We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in a movement
We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in this moment
Like lines on a trail
You surely love what you’ve begotten
But how can you love what we’ve become?
We are ill-defined
Though we move, we move just fine
We are the clay, the putty in your hands
Barely making a dent, never flashing a sign
And we cling to your hands
Too afraid to let go
How we cling to your hands
Too afraid to let go
We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in a movement
We’re stuck, we’re stuck here
Stuck in this moment
Like lines on a trail
|
||||
4. |
Detox the Soul
03:58
|
|
||
|
DETOX THE SOUL
What good is a road
Paved with good intentions
When there are cracks
In the sidewalks?
Hookers with hearts of gold
Are up for show
They rub knees raw
We rub knees raw
Oh, rub knees raw
Detox the soul
Stigmata needles
Like clockwork
Are punching holes
The trophy daydream has a body, has a form
That’s its head firmly mounted on the wall
A damn fine conversation piece
As we stagger, we limp in line
In a life of truth-crime
Perfect tans, retarded sunshine
Detox the soul
Stigmata needles
Like clockwork
Are punching holes
Glorified crutches
Sexy yet skeletal
Oh so easily impressed
By the latest pedestal
Glorified crutches
Sexy yet skeletal
All so easily oppressed
By the latest pedestal
(Those are dirty fingers on your penis, son)
|
||||
5. |
Party Like It's 1939
04:11
|
|
||
|
PARTY LIKE IT'S 1939
Evolution sucked us dry
Passed us by
Hardly made it through the winter
Failed to keep up
Failed to meet the standards
Rubbish toys
On an assembly line
Somewhere
Along the road
We broke ourselves
To bend new rules
Are you up
For yet another re-enactment of the end?
Let this be our epitaph
Burnt full circle now
No, you won’t recognize what you see
Somewhere
Along the road
We broke ourselves
To bend new rules
I’m gone, I’m gone
Just reaping what we’ve sown
Somewhere
Along the road
We broke ourselves
To bend new rules
|
||||
6. |
Copulation Control
02:51
|
|
||
|
COPULATION CONTROL
Pop-pop-pop-pop-
population control
We’ve seen too much
Now shun the touch
Pop-pop-pop-pop-
population control
Oh, our petri dish mess
Why get help?
Let’s just ... Rest
Devour our brothers
Let the scent
Attract the others
Baby, we’re the same
We’re not hiding secrets
We’re just in ... Hiding
Pop-pop-pop-pop-
population control
Let’s go watch it
Watch it grow
Cement, concrete, sinew
And bone
Closure never comes
With a wake-up call
The ditch where it gets born
Is where it buries us all
By raw completion
Kind of made whole
The ties that bind us together
All point to cracked mirrors
Shaky looks into murky rivers
And the weight of the world
And our place in this world
Pop-pop-pop-pop-
population control
Copulation control
Copulation –
|
||||
7. |
Calligraphy with a Brick
02:47
|
|
||
|
CALLIGRAPHY WITH A BRICK
Words aren’t fully formed
Aren’t fully formed
Incomplete and shivering
They just fall out my mouth
And cling to my fists
Like black cancer tar
Syntax lost its meaning
Page is like a football street
And our ink is bleeding
And I try to make sense
To communicate
Got a point to prove
It’ll come across
Through grit teeth
And slurred words
My finer sensibilities
Part cooked, part raw
Can’t do calligraphy
With a brick
Can’t shoot Cupid’s bow
With snakes for arrows
And I try to make sense
To communicate
Got a point to prove
It’ll come across
Through grit teeth
And slurred words
The lump in my head
Pulses and throbs
As each thump resonates
With cluttered echoes
Of riddles and regrets
And I try to make sense
To communicate
Got a point to prove
It’ll come across
Through grit teeth
And slurred words
Seems like crystal logic!
When I was assembled
They messed up a spot
Should’ve roomed a calm
Now it seems like a vacant lot
Seems like crystal logic!
Got some beauty sleep
To catch up on
|
||||
8. |
We Got Love
02:16
|
|
||
|
WE GOT LOVE
Stuck in the inevitable delay
We get the luxury to wash it all away
Pages of dialogue with fucked up rhymes
New regrets to forget, not memorize
‘Cause we got love, love, love
A love that’s bigger than us
(Slippery and out of touch)
Tired mysteries and forgettable daydreams
Like sinking ships with bottled-up feelings
32 silver coins and a pot of gold
Egg hunts and rainbows
You know they never got old
But we got love, love, love
A love that’s bigger than us
(It piles up on top of us)
Oh, we got love, love, love
A love that’s bigger than us
(Slippery and out of touch)
Love ...
|
||||
9. |
Make Shit Shine
04:05
|
|
||
|
MAKE SHIT SHINE
You stayed up late
Compiling lists of lies
Another sexy quitter
With full sets of alibis
Fully aware,
That you were born
To be the next in line
‘Cause you’re going
To hell with style
Got ways
To make shit ...
Shine
Apprentice salesman
With backroom promises
Too much to answer for
There’s always room for more
And each loss … Will be your gain
The everlasting charade
Of the reclusive Alpha Male
Such a busy body
Up against
Impossible odds
‘Cause you’re going
To hell with style
Another silver spoon
Blacks out the moon
There’s a hollow
In your mouth
Where your truth
Went missing
There’s no shudder
Yet it’s cold
‘Cause your soul’s
Been cheating
Yeah, you’re going
To hell with style
Got ways
To make shit ...
Shine
|
||||
10. |
Heritage Crown
07:06
|
|
||
|
HERITAGE CROWN
Just like jaded lovers
We take turns
Take turns
The stars
In our eyes
Got great potential
But nothing special
We wear each other thin
We wear each other out
These constant reminders
Will do, for you
They pull you through
It is the work
You were set here to do
We carry the load
Get stuck with the burden
We line up the shots
As each battle is lost
And it drips on down
I see the heritage crown
I wear it upside down
It’s in my blood now
You see,
The casket
I was supposed
To drowse off in
There’s no peace in it
It’s occupied
Finite
Or infinite
It’s occupied
Occupied
And it drips on down
I see the heritage crown
I wear it upside down
It’s in my blood now
But me
My flesh is weak
It cracks and rips
As each day
Unhinges those jaws
As each day
Sinks its teeth in
And it drips on down
I see the heritage crown
I wear it upside down
It’s in my blood now
And we just couldn’t shake the curse
They built catacombs inside of us
And all our trials and errors
They’d sneak up from behind of us
Like hushed info …
On a tapped line
Hushed … Info
And it drips on down
I see the heritage crown
I wear it upside down
It’s in my blood now
|
||||
This Sect Oslo, Norway
Post-punk weirdos.
This Sect recommends:
The Unnatural World
by HAVE A NICE LIFE
Weird and atmospheric post-punk, just the way we like it. We're coining a new genre with Have A Nice Life; "ghost-punk".
go to album
i am scared of everything that isn't me
by christian fitness
Solo project / thing from Falco of Future of the Left / Mclusky. Strange, occasionally funny and supremely bleak. Nice name!
go to album
The Murder Mystery EP
by The Murder Mystery
Lovely doomsday pop from our good friends The Murder Mystery. A must-listen for fans of vintage post-punk!
go to albumIf you like This Sect, you may also like:
Death is Nothing to Us
by Fiddlehead
Boston band featuring members of Have Heart and Basement take their earnest, motivational post-hardcore to thrilling new heights.
go to album
Before The Day Has Gone
by Bellini
Ten years may have passed since the last Bellini record, but the math rock group sound as fierce as ever.
go to album
Flower Of Life [LP]
by Taleen Kali
"Flower Of Life" yanks riot grrrl south through the unmistakable garage psych sound indispensable to the last 20-odd years of rock music out of Los Angeles.
go to album
