SECT LYRICS

1. Open Grave

They came and went, the warning signs. The canary was dust, but the mine
was running on double time. Pulled down the alarms, tore out the break
lines. Gag reflex override. Eyes sewn shut / mouths open wide. Relax the
throat and let it slide, cold comforts of patriotic lies. Genuflect for
power. They're lining up to cower. For a seat at the master's feet,
they'll swallow yesterday's unthinkable. So was it good? Was it even any
good while it lasted? One plague less is not the end of it all, another
house of cards born to fall. And what passes for eulogy when they chose to
let the lifeline bleed until the last light blinked out and the well ran
dry?

2. Day For Night

They put the wires, put the wires to my head – and all the needles they
jumped. "It won't shut off, it won't shut off, around the clock" they
said, "How do you live like this?" We've got something just for that. Fix
you up in no time flat. Patience, patient, take your rest. Just one catch,
some strings attached, but we can sort it out. Rest of your days, a
Lithium haze, so don't you spit it out. We've got one to wake you up. One
to put you down. One for the side effects, and one to bring you around
from the darkened room, the narcotic cocoon we built just for you. Taking
to the medicine.

3. Crocodile Prayers

Come down off the cross / you dead-hearted frauds. Default to your script,
to your scripture – preaching life and worshipping death. Legislate to
dominate, because your mantra's got nothing left. I saw the light – a
black hole of selective conscience. All bodies were yours (said the Lord)
to blame, shame, crush and control. Live from a pulpit, congress or court.
Life, what about it? There's death in your heart – and you don't give a
fuck. We know what you do, when they make it out of the womb the wrong
color, sex or gender. Wrong class, opinion or culture. Cut down / at every
turn. Snuffed out / with sanctity to burn. Crocodile prayers, carried to
full term and beyond. Dig a grave for the hypothetical. Loss of inventory.
Loss of capital. Save your fraudulent tears for the living, you who build
whole worlds on the backs of the dead.

4. Reality's Wake

Dragged down into an escapist mirage. Hostage to hallucinations. Dead
lights play on my compulsions. We used to live in the light. Now we're
swallowed up by shadows. And truth is nothing but a corpse for the
vultures. Is this all you're worth – dopamine through a dead nerve?
Collapsed like a spent vein, a payload of diminished returns. Worldview on
a wire. Data sick and sleep deprived. Taunted with truths just out of
reach. Haunted by proof kept under lock and key. The flesh is a memory
blinking out, suspect and subjective. Our currency is calamity. We keep
you sick, confused and dependent. Never be well no more. You'll never be
well no more. Waking dream, arrested sanity, eyes glazed over, no hand at
the wheel. Welcome to the new Forever.

5. Stripes

Captive investments under the gun. Livestock under the warden's thumb.
Watched over by machines of no love or grace, keeping out the peace. Five
hundred years and counting. Swapped out your chains for bars. Emancipation
was bad for business. Return the order, recoup the losses. Slavery it
never ended. New World, it never began. Rerouted back to the cage. Blood
money changes hands every step of the way. Locked into dead end cycles.
Profiled and fingerprinted. Rerouted back to the cage. The original theme
- captivity for profit. Master and slave / owner and object. Plantations
for assembly lines, dressed up and modernized. Can you see the stars
through the iron bars tonight?

6. Liberal Arts

Divisive game, no end in sight. Talk in circles day and night. Semantic
antics, why pretend? My enemy's enemy isn't my friend. When you're wrong
you're still right. There's no time left for self-defeat. Because
someone's laughing, and something's growing while we stand here splitting
hairs. Privilege masked by noble causes. Accountability, what's your
process? You won the contest, collect your prize – the rest of us cleaning
up the mess you left behind (what's one more time?) – because you won't be
around to hold you to account. The Liberal Arts, they got your mind all
messed up. You think I'm asking permission to fights we never stopped
fighting. You're conquered. Divided. Delusional.

7. Born Razed

Wiped. Gutted. A city deleted. They handed the keys to the density creeps,
now it's all on the menu and they're wiping it clean. Every inch
commandeered. No vacancy for the unsightly here. Overwritten. Sterilized.
Smeared out before your eyes. All-consuming wrecking ball of affluence
demands this house. Your history is a teardown. Someone's project. Broken
ground.

8. Transaction

Hollowed out. Followed Out. Contain the stray. Paradigm undermines.
Reining in the ones that got away. Blood green bait and switch, and
they're buying it. Bolt gun to the same head. Same blood on the factory
floor. Death and ethics under one roof. Old money protecting the hoard.
The new choice, it's a sick trap. Change thwarted, the order survives.
Reinserted back in your path. Shape-shifter, got your number. You've been
followed here by everything you thought you'd left behind. Your choice,
hand it over and we've got no problem here. Pulling old strings with new
product lines. Ingredients or realities? Ideals or vanity? True refusal or
a cheap guilt release? We still got a fucking problem here.

9. Least Resistance

And the worm it turned, for the ones that wore it best. Became the chorus
with convincing faces I couldn't pull off now or then. And now you say
"you think you're better than me?" No, I don't think of you at all. I
think back on the sureness of youth when you think you can speak for all
your tomorrows. But the brave words, they were right about all the traps,
all the lies. The trip wires in the years ahead that we were sure to
survive. And then you put away these childish things. Now all the old
cliches hold true – so where are you? Jumped from the highest horse when
the praise died down and the crown dispersed. They gave you rope, you made
a noose called Time.

10. Avoidance Ritual

I'll be your Judas, lined up on the wall. I'll be the wing man taking the
fall. I'll be your realist, pummeled to dust. I'll be your Judas thrown
under the bus. The hated one to break the news that there's only two rooms
in your Father's house, both filled like a fountain with expired wishful
thoughts. It's not your hell or heaven to cast me to, to promise or
threaten. For mine is the void, the Kingdom of Nothing. As above, so
below. Both sides of the curtain. All malice and power and scraps for the
faithful. You can swallow crosses to the hilt, swallow narratives greased
up with guilt – but you can't pray your way clear of the gnawing doubt. So
I'll be your Judas, wrecking the shot. Excised from the final cut. Written
out of Glory. The cynic at the gates that any god worth their salt could
appreciate. I'll be your Judas. You're going to need some realist.







SECT LYRICS