LYRICS:

Draw the Curtains, Hit the Lights
1. Drown This Monster
2. Free This Ghost
3. Paint This City

Atop These Burning Hills EP
1. Succumb to Solidarity
2. Alteration
3. Landmines in Letters
4. Atop These Burning Hills
5. Closed Minds & Powerlines

The Susanna No Pants EP
1. Landmines in Letters
2. Instrumental

Other
1. Untitled (Urethra Franklin)
2. ...Still Sinking
3. Colour This City


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Drown This Monster
Draw the curtains, hit the lights. The fire has been waiting to ignite and inside all that remains is about to taste the terror of butane because this affair is hanging on a thread and it's better left for dead. And the apathetic careless crowd cares not to save this wreck from burning down. You state you're rising in ratings, but your colours are fading. They're melting to the ground. Who's gonna save this wreck from burning down? The look of concern on your face is suddenly, steadily replaced with a counterfeit smile. It manifests the greatest lies and tells the story of a mangled mind. This is far from all behind.
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Free This Ghost
I thought I saw a potential human dwelling inside my flesh. I thought I saw right through my ribs, a heart beating under my chest. I was right to never question myself about my transparency as I watched a stranger in the mirror staring back at me. Now everything seems artificial, every feeling felt. Every night was the same, every battle with myself. And every time I ran every circle was the same but nothing, not a pill, can balance this scale inside my brain. When I wasn't waging wars, our wounds were trying to keep shut. I must have explored every bottled cure but no bottle was enough to keep this pseudo- happiness at full throttle. I can't depend on anything, no pill, no bottle. A sign can flash right by your eyes. A god, something I've always despised. Some hope is all my searching for. A cure that doesn't leave me lifeless on the floor. Intermission and my nerves are wishing for a sign, a god, some hope, a cure.
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Paint This City
These are supposed to be our streets, but every where I look I see; a billboard or a fucking bank machine, smoke from a factory, an advertisement on a tv screen, I hear propaganda from my radio feed. In a system where we're told to fear for our lives. If it's from a new reporters mouth, it has to be wise. If we can escape this insane framework of capitalism, we can see that there are better feelings than being imprisoned in what we created. So let's paint this city a colour called freedom. The city that we've been coerced to obey authority (of a higher figure). But let me ask you, what makes you any better than me? In a system where we're told what to believe, and we buy into every lie that they feed. All of the conspiracies, and this is what we call democracy. Here is what I've learned so far: we are not humans, but consumers. So close the curtains and dim lights and let them consume our lives.
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Untitled
I saw sky scrapers clean the city streets of everything. The debris has been yet to be wiped off our TV screens. The wall they built seperating us from fact and fiction is gonna come crumbling like the wall of Berlin. Why are they playing with our lives? We're waking up to their lies. They feign in innocence while we multiply. There are some sheep still asleep, all caught up in the debris. Let's make a difference while we're still alive. Have we been sold, is it too late to free ourselves from this slavery that we bought while begging on our fucking knees for national security? Reliquish your liberties, cut the constitutional [rights] pleas.
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Succumb to Solidarity
I think it's sort of cute how they whitewash your minds, intaking all the misconceptions that their foreman finds so right, this is white power at it's finest degree, and it's boiling in here so I try and speed up my plea. But I continue to have hooded hicks yell at me, do they cover up their faces 'cause they know that they are cowards? Spreading hate universally, well I'm counting down the hours. We'll knock down their foundation, and the television towers, then we won't have to listen to the news stations either, giving us their subliminal, partisan opinion. The countless number of people being played like violins. Softly, slowly making it through the terror, as we continue to rip at the fabric keeping time with their melodies. You tend to lose so much, more quickly when you're on your knees. Do they think one race will lead to prosperity? Or are they just afraid to succumb to solidarity?
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Alteration
Lyrics are too brutal to be shown to the public. Listen to the CD if you really want to know.
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Landmines in Letters
My body shakes, I can't stop the trembling, with a gun in my hands and there's no turning back. So far from home, I'm so scared and alone. Look what you did to me, I'm tortured by the sounds and the bodies, that stalk these grounds. Look what you did to me, I thought I'd be six feet under by now. I hated seeing the way that you bled, so many tears from the families will be shed, when you break the news. The ring on the phone, and the letters they'll have read.
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Atop These Burning Hills
The fact that across the world, all those people grieving, rips me apart like the rusted rifle in my hands. Because of an inconsiderate authority based on lies, this seems to be no suprise. We'll put Xs on that white house's eyes, for every life they ever took from us. This experience is going to last and scar a lifetime. From what I've seen, this is the last place I want to be. It's comforting to know that I could be buried by men who were just as behind as I was. The blood boils but the walking brainwashed remains, filled with the same bullshit brains as I was. Fighting for a fake war, fake swore this was the truth, and if worst comes to worst, we'll all have to perish. Before this regime realizes the truth is they'll be the only ones left, they won't put their families on trial. But they'll have no one to put before themselves, we protect them. Never will a rifle touch a hand of our so called leaders, leading us into a revolution of shit we're being fed, the finger prints are left on the documents of the dead.
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Closed Minds & Powerlines
We live in a nation where a man is continually told that he's wrong, the secrets he kept for so long. You can't blame him for hiding in a closet. "Your actions are sinful what would Jesus think?" Closed minds and powerlines, left us sinking. Molested by waters with such burning sensation their relationship is drowning because of these expectations. Punshing them won't do a thing, forget the anchors because anymore weight holding them down is for the worst. It's pretty pathetic how apathetic some of us can be, you can go long ways with fucked ideas, if you have money. I hope the voting has bigger brains then the bullshitter who wrote your book you worship so proudly and preach so loudly.
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...Still Sinking
Our city is sinking and this could quite possibly be, one of the most ignored tragedies. Natural disasters, blame it on their geography, but why wasn't help sent immediately? The white has fled to comfy beds where they're as safe as can be, but the poverty and black society is left with a flooded city. So let's grab our private jets and flee the fuck outta here, because we all know we're filthy rich like that. But where's their help? Because it appears no where to be found. Is it the black they wear so proudly? Because this isn't making any sense at all. Does it feel good to watch your people fall (so violently)? Our city is sinking slowly but the President told me help was on it's way. Still we continue to be oppressed, the struggle of fighting to live another day is hell.
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