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by Feudalism

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When I drink, I don't feel happier; I get depressed, and angry. Repressed emotions fall through my teeth and onto the floor -- but I do it, 'cuz it's a healthy release minus the healthy, soon I will be deceased in a pile of my own vomit and feces, paramedics will dig me out. And my last words will be just leave me here! When I fuck up, my eyes dart across the room, looking for someone to blame. Cooking my fears in a pot left to marinate for days. The people I love they sit and stare first with pity and then with contempt; unkempt and disheveled, my clothes are wrinkly, my teeth yellowed. First you'll see me, then you'll smell me coming! First you'll see me, then you'll smell me coming! I can't find the words to say what made me up and leave that day. I took you, my one hopeful ray of light, and I gave you away. I hope whoever you spend your time with these days is much better than I was; I'm sure he is, it doesn't take much. I've fallen out of touch. I gave you away! I am twenty years old, and all I have done is fuck over people who love me and fight with the people who don't. 'Till there's not one drop of love in the world left for me, it's been eaten by dogs, swallowed up by the sea. It's been absorbed by the people I don't talk to, it's been eaten by the lies that I've told, the lies that I've told! The lies that I've told. The lies that I've told, the lies that I've told, the lies that I've told.
Conquest 01:00
The villager he left the small village he came from, and he stumbled through the countryside, veins filled with opiates and rum. He looked for a new mountaintop, a wild place to sow his seed, with tobacco plants and fresh water, the only comfort that he needs. He stopped for rest at a steep plateau when a man on horseback to him rode and the villager blew pipeweed on his face, and kicked the man off of his horse (of course!) The man on horseback as it were, was an officer of the law, so he flashed his badge and drew out his gun, but the villager did not turn to run. He faced the lawman brow to brow, pipe long since burned out by now, and the villager opened his mouth to speak: but no words came out; the villager simply spat upon the law.
Out of breath, late to class: last night I smoked half a pack. But I could wait for the Summer, and I could keep in touch, but it's too much, too much, too much. I've fallen out of touch. Out of step, out of time: who said liking something was a fucking crime? But I'll just do what I wanna, and I'll like just what you don't oh no I won'tm I won't, I won't. I'll like just what you don't.
I can't find the words to say anything to you -- but if I could, I'd mumble them as incoherent as I do (I do, I do!) Night November to dark December, January's looking bleak too. Come February, I reckon I'll believe that I'm okay without you -- but that's not true. What else is new? I lie to you -- it's all that I know how to do, well here's the truth: between me and you, if you were like me, you'd be a liar too. You'd be a liar, too. In the Summer I am reckless, and I don't give a fuck! In the Fall I buy my backpack, and I wish myself luck. In the Wintertime is the decline of my hope and self esteem, and in the Spring my self-loathing is bursting at the seems. Then it's Summer again and by this point, I have given up, then like the leaves I fall from trees but I can't pick myself back up. One more Winter I can't take it anymore, please that's enough, I'd hibernate 'till Spring gets here, but I don't think I'd wake up any less fucked. I say I've changed, and I hope I'm right -- for your sake and my sake, too. I used to do things and say things without knowing why, like a robot or a zombie would do, and that's the truth. But, now I'm brand new, just for you, I control what I do (that's almost true). Between me and you, if you were like me you'd be a liar too. You'd be a liar too (etc, etc) La la la, la la la la, la la la, la la la la. La la la, la la la la, la la la, la la la la. La, la, la, la. - - - - La, la, la, la.


released March 1, 2013

Engineered by Scott Thompson at Aciem Studios.
Produced by Feudalism and Escape From the Industry Recordings.
Mastered by Kevin S. McMahon of Marcata Recordings
Album Artwork by John Komar


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Feudalism Clifton, New Jersey

Folk/Punk band from Clifton, NJ

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