1. |
||||
|
You met me on the corner, there was cocaine in our blood
There were demons in my head and there were daggers in my guts
You said you didn't get it, get why I wished I was dead
I sighed, you shrugged, you kissed me hard and then we went to bed.
We woke up in the morning with blood in every sneeze.
You asked quickly to explain all of my self-loathing.
Told you I was a monster, a hack, a fool, a fiend
A truly hateful piece of shit who deserved suffering
And you, yeah you said that you'd have to disagree
Yeah you, yeah you said that you'd have to disagree
But you don't know me
|
||||
2. |
Our Land
02:41
|
|||
|
I live in a land of brown paper bags and cigarette butts and empty beer cans and telephone poles and radio towers that listen to us from afar like cowards
I live in a land with cops on each corner and a starbucks that thrives on each block
A land where the billboards block out the sunlight and replace it with ideals so wrong
And they call this the land of the free
Well they call this the land of the free
Fuck they call this the land of the free
But it looks more like a prison cell to me
I live in a land of used hypodermics and pills pushed to keep us in line
A land under a god that is non-existent, a land of corruption and lies
A land where we put our trust in a system that tells us to lie, cheat, and steal
And fuck over others, stab holes in the planet so deep that the wounds do not heal
And they call this the land of the free
Well they call this the land of the free
Fuck they call this the land of the free
But it looks more like a seeping wound to me (herpes reference!)
So carve this heart into my sleeve so the world can see what I believe and you know that I won't stop until we're free
|
||||
3. |
||||
|
Took a jump and missed the wagon
I broke my stride on the long fall down
Try to live through this depression
I stumble, fall, and hit the ground
My body screams for my old habits
For my old crutch, for my old fix
Devil on my shoulder whispers get on the train
To the life you used to live
I want to fall down and break up on the floor
I wanna come apart at the seams, I don't want to feel anymore
Faded track marks tell a story of blurry truth, like a sick elderly man
Full ashtrays bring sinking feelings, fill me with doubt, they fill me with regret
Crumpled papers on my mattress, half-written songs now accompany me to bed
I'll drink until I forget what you look like
Will this routine continue til I'm dead?
I want to fall down and break up on the floor
I wanna fall apart at the seams, I don't want to feel anymore
|
||||
4. |
||||
|
They found you in the alley, pale skin, cold as ice
They found, they found you in the alley with a needle in your veins
And now we sit on the docks where we first met and throw your ashes into the sea
And your girl, she's crying in the corner as we excavate buried memories, buried memories, dead memories
They found you in the alley, pale skin, cold as ice
They found, they found you in the alley with a needle in your veins
And she found your ring in the sock drawer and she collapsed on the floor
And her poor, strained heart, it all but fell apart when she said "I still love you"
When she said "I still love you"
So Leon, Leon, Leon was it the pressure?
Was it the fear, withdrawal, or anxiety?
So Leon, Leon, Leon what made you forget?
And did you really need to leave?
Well we still love you
Yeah, we still love you
We'll see you in our dreams
|
||||
5. |
Jim Beam Cares More
02:52
|
|||
|
So I promised you that I'd quit
Yeah I promised you that I'd stop doing this shit
But these powders and these pills will always be my side unlike you, girl
So if you don't love me why the hell should I?
Yeah if you don't love me why the hell should I?
So I'm sorry for not being the best man in the world
And you might wanna scoot over, I think I'm gonna hurl
So I'm sorry for not being the best man in the world
But substance abuse seems to be more loyal than you, girl
So I promised you that I'd quit drinking alone
But it's hard to stop when you're sad and stuck at home
And I'm sorry girl but Jim Bean seems to care more
And there are more bottles on my floor than the times we've kissed
And I have to ask myself if you're worth all this
So I'm sorry for not being the best man in the world
And you might wanna scoot over, I think I'm gonna hurl
So I'm sorry for not being the best man in the world
But substance abuse seems to be more loyal than you, girl
And I guess this is my way of saying goodbye
Yeah, and I guess this is my way of saying goodbye
So I'm sorry, girl, I'm sorry for wasting your time
And I really hate to say it
But I'd rather get high
|
||||
6. |
Love is Freedom
02:59
|
|||
|
It was just another day, kicked out and playing for change
Singing songs of revolution, love, and rage
To a handful of tourists in this tropical hell
Til I made enough to spend the night in a cheap motel
And through the paper-thin walls I heard a hooker slapped by her pimp
She screamed something loud about her baby and heroin
And the pimp just laughed and said that she don't deserve a kid
And though I heard it all I didn't do shit
But this is not a eulogy for what could and should have been
This is a pyre raised in honor of my disgust with all this
Fueled by notebooks and scrap paper, bleeding hearts and rebel fists
In a fucked attempt to burn this world of greed and selfishness
I stood there in the shower trying to wash away
The sweat, the dirt, the remorse and the clinging sense of shame
Til my legs simply gave in to the two ton weight of hate
For the way this world is run on any given day
So the words I scream to you at the top of my lungs
Are the same words building pressure in my veins
Why do we trust a system the causes people so much pain?
Let's burn it down and build a better, brighter
This is not a eulogy for what could and should have been
This is a pyre raised in honor of my disgust with all this
Fueled by notebooks and scrap paper, bleeding hearts and rebel fists
In a fucked attempt to burn this world of greed and selfishness
|
||||
7. |
||||
|
Well I've got something of a self-destructive complex
A desire, no a need, to break myself down
Every morning I'm chainsmoking these cigarettes in an attempt to destroy my lungs
And yes it makes me weaker, and fuck it kills my wallet but I don't think I deserve nice things
I fell from blind romantic to self-loathing misanthrope waiting for my habits to kill me
So you can try to save me if you think you can
I'm in a drunken stupor, waiting to drive you mad
Drinking hard, falling down, passing out on the ground
To me this is all that I deserve
Broken heart on my sleeve, oh baby look what I've done to me
Why am I surprised that you would leave?
I am a loser and a loner and a writer
I believe in freedom, I believe in anarchy
But sometimes waiting for this goddamn revolution I am filled with thoughts and fears and bad dreams
For the enemy outnumbers and outguns and most us freedom fighters, yeah, we'll die for our cause
Was it the thought of me dying for peace that scared you or was it just that you never cared at all?
So you can try to save me if you think you can
I'm in a drunken stupor, waiting to drive you mad
Drinking hard, falling down, passing out on the ground
To me this is all that I deserve
Broken heart on my sleeve, oh baby look what I've done to me
Why am I suprised that you would leave?
So yes it hurt to watch you go but I just wanted to let you know I'm not gonna destroy myself over you, not for you
No, if I'm gonna go it's gonna be on the day that we kill all the cops and blow up the banks
And my last and final words will be "we our free, we are free"
So you can try to save me if you think you can
I'm in a drunken stupor, waiting to drive you mad
|
||||
8. |
For Our Heroes
02:55
|
|||
|
So we're rolling down the highway and we don't know where we're going, all we know is that we can't stay here
No we must keep moving, keep buring up these miles
We musn't stop, we cannot stop, my dear
Cause if we trip and stumble, they'll hunt us like bloodhounds and see how much abuse our morals take
Though I don't think they can catch me, I don't think they can change me, my heroes fell on that very mistake
And this means more to us than revenue and merchandise and video and lust
Yeah this means more to us than what you have to offer
So we'll drive on through the daylight and play the night away to our comrades, anarchists, and leave
Sleep only when its needed, forget things like comfort
Forget things like law, money, and greed
And you can call us crazy or make your offerings of fortune, of fame, and of greed
But we'll respectfully decline them, scrounge change for gasoline and keep our pride despite the need for scavenging
And this means more to us than revenue and merchandise and video and lust
Yeah this means more to us than what you have to offer
Now the one thing I regret about the life of a nomad is never staying with the ones you meet
The one night stands are countless, life's a an endless meet and greet and when you think you've found the one well, it's time to leave
And to deal with emotions you turn to booze and drugs, sometimes liquid bread is all you need to eat
A nomads life is lonesome, there's no denying that, but that's the price you pay for being free
And this means more to us than revenue and merchandise and video and lust
Yeah this means more to us than what you have to offer
|
||||
Caulfield Rebellion Newark, Delaware
Electric folk-punk rock from Miami, FL through Newark, DE and parts unknown.
Coming soon to a basement near you.
If you like Caulfield Rebellion, you may also like:
featured on Bandcamp Radio Sep 1, 2023
go to album
Sidewalkin'
by the cigarette bums
An album of garage punk stompers that will stick in your ears like bubblegum to your shoes.
go to album
Dead Cross, Retox, and Qui members dish out subversive hardcore with an indignant smirk; come for the riffs, stay for the synth experiments.
go to album
This Is All We Ever Get
by SPACED
Knockout debut from a Buffalo, New York-based hardcore band who like their riffs sick, their drums fast, and their choruses sticky-sweet.
go to album
Shybaby kicks out the jams on “Is This Intimate,” a snarling rock record that takes no prisoners.
go to album
On their ferocious self-titled debut, the Australian punks pit d-beat percussion against gnarled, metallic melodies.
go to album
Escape From New York
by Cash Bribe
New York hardcore meets classic thrash metal meets Jane's Addiction-esque alternative on the Brooklyn crushers' sensational debut.
go to album
