1. |
Port St. Lucie, Florida
01:12
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Hee-yah! The disenchantment. So completely detached from this. And in haste of expediency we defame deceit. Partnership sinking. Hone your trade, traitors. Five proverbial knives in the back. Yeah, the filth we trod. Long haulers of a grimace veiled. Bottomless stares and their sullen demands hold no water to the sweat we shed. And if all you need is whatever you want, take this (resign) to heart.
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2. |
Murfreesboro, Tennessee
03:35
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3. |
Anderson, Indiana
02:56
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Forgiving the long walk-abouts. Reliving those long talks-a-lots that never offered upshot. It’s been lodged in our throats and it’s the last time we can spit it. The face of every siren, soundless, in awe. There was a time when guidance was selfless. Tomorrow never told her secret unless you were able to get a few drinks in the old broad. It’s been flung from our throats and it’s the first time we can taste it. The face of every siren, stricken, alone. Step the stairs. Rung the ladder. I’ll take the latter. The forest is packed. A barrage of bears couldn’t pick up the slackers. They fired and hired, inspired, but the mauling was fleeting, and gangly, and tired. A lot of spat about losing our voices. Very neglectful, for we always found a voice. Autoethnography: either a book on tape or a tape on book? Dust, wind, dude. Strikes and gutters. Stomp the stairs. Ring the ladder. As the voices become the face of every siren, solemn, undone. One if by land, two if by sea. The death of me. I sat beside myself, alone with my conscience. This will be the only science I’ll have left to side beside now that the curtain’s closed. Well, the play went well. It had the audience up out of their nosebleed seats (the skull of Yorick), throwing roses (memento mori), thirsting for some hardcore encore. And surely this must be the death of me. This must be the death of me. This will be the death of me. This life be death.
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4. |
Odessa, Texas
01:30
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We few bad apples. Half a dozen rotten eggs. Assault the grocer. Produce. Betray. Sacrificial offerings. Vein crimson deluge, vine the wine. That grime the molds your dome work, cross dresser. Grow it Bald Bull, shitter. Bark the rind. Darken the rhyme. I can type my words out, man. I can spare a moment for a word, man. Try to put that past me, beneath the crossbar, through the uprights. Right before my face caves in my knees give way. Uptight. Spare memento. Mind overgrown. Five men overboard backstroke toward the sun setting. Folly. Costly undertakings. Ruinous outcomes.
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5. |
Fremont, Ohio
02:21
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This is the end? This is the beginning!
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6. |
Portland, Oregon
02:45
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We gave, took this to heart(less). Untiring headlamps kindled, enflamed the rant. For as long as this trail has been braved it has bearded us its bitter brethren. Their. There. They are. They’re there. Unmotivated homophones. They are wearing bare. Garrulous syntax theorists with the brass to boast it valid. We adopted this diction, gyred a tongue dependent on fiction. No one will scream for anything anymore, nor must we whisper for anything any less. Yeah, we lost some battles, but we always lost them for each other. Hell yeah! We blazed some saddles. We rowed, oared, paddled. But NOFX was right- the desperation’s gone. We found out for ourselves. It’s over. There’s no give. No more less.
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7. |
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Folly New Jersey
Hailing from northern NJ, Folly’s eclectic sound fuses the fury of hardcore, chaos of metal, urgency of punk rock, and jubilation of ska/reggae. They are known for their energized and immersive live shows, and have shared the stage with such acts as Bad Religion, Dillinger Escape Plan, The Slackers, Converge, Every Time I Die, Streetlight Manifesto, A New Found Glory, and The Bouncing Souls. ... more
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