THE AMENTA LYRICS

1. On

[Instrumental]

2. Junky

All white noise
It's all the same...
A viral disease...
Suffocate ...it's all the same
...Bleed down to zero

Shattered wreck shivering
In cool blue TV fire
Amphetamine grit
Living remotely
Keeping so distant
A fucking deadweight
A life by proxy
His retinas flicker with
Stock footage of genocide

Asleep at the wheel
Coasting in neutral
Psyche mirrored in
A crash victim's fender
Any detail blurred
Indistinct and degraded

This is the media junky
Humanity's dry husk
Incapable of abstract thought
On/Off/On/Off
This is the media junky
Complacently numb
Culture bought on credit
A montage of random edits

Nothing is sacred
Everything is disposable
The "truth" is a con
Information is power
Random fractured binary
A "fact" is a selling point
Everything too simple
An advertising swindle
In this red, rusted landscape

Asleep at the wheel
Coasting in neutral
Psyche mirrored in
A crash victim's fender
Any detail blurred
Indistinct and degraded

This is the media junky
Humanity's dry husk
Incapable of abstract thought
On/Off/On/Off
This is the media junky
Complacently numb
Culture bought on credit
A montage of random edits

Nothing concrete
All is plastic
Media is the corpse
And he is the vulture

His nervous system
A collage of school shootings
And hospital waiting rooms
Bloody pavements intersect
Images of catwalk fashion

Headline black bleeds into inkblots
Suggestion shutdown
His is a slow death

This is the media junky
Humanity's dry husk
This is the media junky
Humanity's dry husk
On/Off/On/Off

3. Vermin

Highly evolved?
Origin of the fucking slave
You are all voids
Comfortable null
You are animals
Who claim to be human
But you aren't trying
To reach the ideal

You are a primitive design
Nothing but base urges
A fight or flee reflex
You are vermin
A creature of impulse
Fucking and feeding
There is only reaction

Divinity is nothing
But a yearning beast
A crude vessel
Desiring refinement
A primitive rat?
Or a refined beast?
All in the gutter
We search for stars

Nature cannot be rejected
Cloistered and denied
But it can be tempered
In every futile struggle
In everything out of reach
In every distant goal
There is something human

You are vermin
Nothing but a flawed
Base rat
An insect of
Insignificance
You don't have what it takes
To rise
You are vermin

When it's all so aimless
When there are no goals
When there it's all just reaction
There is nothing human
When everything is thoughtless
When it's all so aimless
When there are no goals
There is nothing human

Think
What do you consider important?
What are your goals?
Are you content?
You can choose
To be a pig in shit
Or something almost human

You are a primitive design
Nothing but base urges
A fight or flee reflex
You are vermin
A creature of impulse
Fucking and feeding
There is only reaction

You are vermin
Nothing but a flawed
Base rat
An insect of
Insignificance
You don't have what it takes
To rise
You are vermin

4. Entropy

Do you think I care?
You think I fucking care?
This drama is not mine...
One last test...
...

5. Slave

No Division
Between church and state.
Policies spat from the pulpit.
A godhead decrees
On the stolen televisions
of the junksick slums.
This is a slave-cult
Of a worm-race,
A failed, stillborn intellect.
Your leaders,
Your (God)heads of state,
Have ground you into dust.

A media-infected age
Disinformation.
The Divine virus
Force fed to parasites.
The opiate of the masses,
Mainlined, injected
By a vacant, idle herd.

A soul
Sold on a ballot paper,
Is a slave
Driven by indolence.
A soul
Sold on a ballot paper,
Is a slave
Driven by indolence.
You are all whores
Carrying a binarial disease.
You are all whores
Carrying a binarial disease.

Archangels of doublethink,
Parliaments of a faceless elect.
No triumph of the will
When you worship the whip.
This is your answer?
A church of soulless husks?
Flag waving blank faces.
Flag burning masks.
Every Jihad, every holy war,
Is a political act.

The new religion has martyrs.
The new religion has saviours.
The new religion
Is forcing you down.
So proud of a system?
You are all hunched shoulders.
Yearn for nothing.
Signifying nothing.
Down on your knees.

A soul
Sold on a ballot paper,
Is a slave
Driven by indolence.
A soul
Sold on a ballot paper,
Is a slave
Driven by indolence.
You are all whores
Carrying a binarial disease.
You are all whores
Carrying a binarial disease.

6. Whore

I have seen the greatest minds
Sedated and raped
A generation of model citizens
Selling to the highest bidder

When everything stops
And there is only ragged laughter left
When everything is colourless and dull
You will finally know
You are empty and alone

You have only yourself to blame
Your weakness and fear
You're a trapped rat
Always searching for escape
Everything you've ever wanted
Denied to you
You are a trapped rat
Searching for escape

You have only yourself to blame
Your weakness and fear
You're a trapped rat
Always searching for escape
I'll let you fall
Back into the chaos
Like a diving bell

You're a fucking waste
Failure
Victim
Acidic
Malignant
You're empty and flawed
You've hit a social dead-end
Redundant
Submissive
Shallow
Vacant
You whore

We are all in the gutter
But some of us look for the stars
You have buried yourself in binary
Where is your vision?
You whore

A world revolving in locked grooves
Every pass drives the needle deeper
Every day is another dollar
And every dollar makes the walls much steeper
Even a clock strives to stop
Though time keeps ticking on

You have chosen the void
Everything repeating and cowering
Even a clock strives to stop
Though time keeps ticking on
Product of an uncertain age
No risk, no reward

You have only yourself to blame
Your weakness and fear
You're a trapped rat
Always searching for escape
You could have been someone
But you are a nothing
Any personality has been degraded

You have only yourself to blame
Your weakness and fear
You're a trapped rat
Always searching for escape
Rather serve nine to five
Than reign in uncertainty

You're a fucking waste
Failure
Victim
Acidic
Malignant
You're empty and flawed
You've hit a social dead-end
Redundant
Submissive
Shallow
Vacant
You whore

7. Spine

There is no strength
There are only systems
There is no belief
There is only dogma
No more spines
Controlled by ambition
Only buckled car bodies
In which we are caged

This sick new world
This sick world trapped
In buckled car bodies
Asleep at the wheel
Out of control
Controls out of reach
Always crashing
In the same car

Democracy is a faceless dictator
It's branding erased
In repeated collisions
Under a tangled constitution
A squat, squalid slave
The scattered detritus
Of a freeway culture

There is no strength
There is only systems
There is no belief
There is only dogma
No more spines
Controlled by ambition
Only buckled car bodies
In which we are caged

A revolution
Is just a zero
It brings you right back
To where you began

Out with the old
In with the new
The only thing changing
Is who holds the whip

Peakhour traffic
In static dead air
Psyche mirrored in
A crash victim's fender
Every word brings
Smells of burning oil

We will all be
Hunched shoulders
Windows shut and
Air recycled
No direction
No fucking spine

We are in neutral
Careening down steep streets
Asleep at the wheel
Out of control
No one takes the wheel
Just pretending to drive
A new dummy
Every time we crash
Everything stuttering
Towards zero
No movement and no meaning
This world is all
Dimming headlights

Billboards cluttered
With empty rhetoric
The futile chatter of
A preprogrammed system
There is no difference
But there is a choice
There is a shell
But there is no spine

8. Skin

The neon bruise on her cheek flickers on/off/on in the rain.
On her thigh there is a tattooed smear.
She finds a vein in her ankle.
Pull back.
Under a tangle of freeway passes, a squat, squalid city.
Derelict buildings huddled together for warmth, windows burn with cool blue TV fire.
They all sell something down here.
Sex, drugs, religion.
They'll buy escape at any price.

She squats in a peeling doorway, something childlike and explicit in the splay of her legs.
From her tiny purse she takes a cigarette and rolls it between her fingers.

Buildings grow like weeds between drifts of broken stereos and refrigerator boxes.

He steps towards her and offers a light.
The gesture is familiar and as she stands, a coy smile twists her face, the cigarette casually held to hide her broken tooth.
As they talk she smooths the pleated vinyl of her skirt.
He draws her back into the doorway, out of the rain.

The only moon over the city tonight is the crescent of bleached teeth on a billboard advertising salvation, at a high price.

He steps towards her but doesn't offer a light.
When he spits at her feet she recoils, as if it has landed on her cheek.
As he waves his fist she notices the stains on his teeth.
She thinks they must have been retouched for the billboard.
His teeth are the colour of derelict, rotten buildings.
She says "At least I admit what I am".
He spits again and walks away.

9. Dirt

Every morning after
Will be shades of grey
All spotlight sunrise
Or bruised sunset
When the clock stops
And everything is stale and still
And the rust finally shows
On everything we've gathered

All of your plans
All of your promises
All those revolutions
Your resolve
All of your power
And all your pride
Will all be nothing
Nothing but dirt

In the end what remains?
Not the body
Nor forgotten hours
Drowned in drink
Our lives flicker
The soul is just
A collusion of senses
It's just our deeds
That see morning
Book ended by black
We are water dripping
From leaking, rusted taps
The sound of clocks
Twitching through dust

We are
Flickering embers
In dusty ashtrays
We are the dirt
We are just dregs
We are water dripping
From rusted taps
We are dirt

This is all we paint
Blank canvas, blank canvas
Humanity is aches
Creaking joints
Hunched shoulders
Traces of blood on bed sheets
Persistent benign tumours
This is all we paint

All of your power
And all your pride
Will all be nothing
Nothing but dirt

In the end what remains?
Not the body
Nor forgotten hours
Drowned in drink
Our lives flicker
The soul is just
A collusion of senses
It's just our deeds
That see morning
Book ended by black
We are water dripping
From leaking, rusted taps
The sound of clocks
Twitching through dust

We are
Flickering embers
In dusty ashtrays
We are the dirt
We are just dregs
We are water dripping
From rusted taps
We are dirt

10. Atrophy

[Instrumental]

11. Cancer

A waxwork generation
Replicas in studied generic pose
The only change
A softening of features
Manufactured in factory conditions
Is a perfect copy preferred
To an imperfect original?

A locked groove generation
Every pass drives the needle deeper
A revolution brings distortion
Each closing vein blunts the needle
Such pointless movement
Everything redundant
Remote culture symbolized
By circling the drain

This is the cancer generation
A culture of the leech
This is parasites grasping
For ideals out of reach
Cancer generation
An age of soulless husks
An age of rot
An age of rust
Cancer generation
Ground to dust

A reactive generation
Slaves driven by stimuli
No analysis, no thought
This shallow cult
Is the price of ease
Cancer generation

There is no way out
Of this fucking tailspin
The trap has sprung
The human succumbs
Meekly

A counterfeit generation
Every fake identical
It's meaning faded
And it's worth diluted
A culture of parasites
Drinking from the veins of another

A culture of addicts
A culture of fraud
An era of sloth
The deviant decorum
Of the slowest of the herd
This is the product of
A lifetime of apathy

A locked groove generation
Every pass drives the needle deeper
A revolution brings distortion
Each closing vein blunts the needle
Such pointless movement
Everything redundant
You built the bomb
You built the bomb
Now strap it on

This is the cancer generation
A culture of the leech
This is parasites grasping
For ideals out of reach
Cancer generation
An age of soulless husks
An age of rot
An age of rust
Cancer generation
Ground to dust

12. Rape

Listen
Plague rats
You lice, you leeches
You can no longer coast
This media mind-rape
Has ravaged unchecked
Wake up
Wake the fuck up parasites

You could have been
But you're nothing
A fucking mixed breed
Lazy fucking junk
Just white noise in silence
You are empty and null
Symptom of
A counterfeit generation

Listen
You addicts, junkies, slaves
This cult of submission is
Rusting your minds
Your failing is
Your binary reason
On/off/black/white
Wake up

Choke it all down
Keep those eyes open
Accept every little bit
Choke it all down
Pretend you wanted this

You want an answer?
The answer is [word obscured]
You want a savior?
Try checking in the ad break
You want redemption?
You want a meaning?
You want an answer?
The answer is [word obscured]

Listen
You zeros, nothings, voids
Your sullied heart beats on a sleeve smeared with dirt
This cancer culture
Is beaten and sick
This coma culture
Has a rotten
Core

In an empty
Concrete room
Vision
Flickers
Static







THE AMENTA LYRICS