1. |
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You stood there confused and obsolete.
As the ground crawled right up through your feet.
Taking back what was rightfully hers.
Next time cowboy them boots better have spurs.
Zestful is the zany act.
Different sides but on the same track.
Mindsets that change can bore.
It’s hard work but you claim you have done more.
Where’d the money go? (Where’d it go)
Where’d the money go? (Go, Go)
It all seems to go into a hole.
A mouth that eats and won’t take the fault.
Haggard certitude under action.
Bullets raise mere illusion liberating the doves. (SEIZE FIRE!)
As you watch and exchange hazy glares with one another.
The homeland reached a tangible mortal state, something it always had,
and prompted you with the question, “Why aren’t you sorry?”.
Where’d the money go? (Where’d it go)
Where’d the money go? (Go, Go)
You take and take and take some more
and wonder why your jaws are sore.
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2. |
Paid Off
02:42
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Rattling the dice all the time.
Playing to win.
Chronic itching a scratch won't fix
again and again and again.
Visibly different but ambiguous.
Glassy eyes aren’t prone to seeing.
Hiding the truth but conspicuous.
The lights in the room are dazzling.
Escape to a place completely alone,
ripping yourself from your own.
When it’s time to come back the trail will be gone.
Your vicious cycles finally paid off.
Redesigning the highways of the mind.
Connecting busy roads with a calm drive.
Roadwork season is at it’s end.
Winter comes the roads are freezing.
The perception of pain becomes pitiful.
The want for more becomes relentless.
Pushing for the capital but it’s not enough.
Bodies that are this weak can’t take too much.
Hearing colors and seeing sounds.
Melting and soaking into the ground.
Escape to a place completely alone,
ripping yourself from your own.
When it’s time to come back the trail will be gone.
Your vicious cycles finally paid off.
(BLEGHHHH)
Hungry and angry you’re lonely and tired.
The time for change has not expired.
Pull it together the trail’s not far.
Redirect your life; A persons a person, a place is a place, face the change.
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3. |
Fake Your Kindness
03:16
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Fake your kindness.
Dress for mourning.
Absent-minded.
Zone out for comfort.
Don’t make a single move
Don’t say a single thing
Now do what you are told
You can’t think on your own.
Hold back, hold back your anger.
Tradition is in the ring.
You have to be the better fighter.
Even from the grave you still tear things apart.
Turning sweet situations into something tart.
Sadness can’t be felt when you’ve been stripped of that right.
Although I’m concerned why I can’t feel anything, and I’m alive,
I’m so happy you died.
Don’t make a single move.
Don’t say a single thing.
Now do what you are told.
Hold back, hold back your anger.
Tradition is in the ring.
You have to be the better fighter.
(Fake your kindness
Dress four mourning
Absent-minded
Die for comfort)
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4. |
Get Wrekt
03:06
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5. |
Chewing Spoons
03:44
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Disturbing preferences.
Breaking metal with our teeth.
Busy visions of our differences.
A silver spoon only tastes so sweet.
And you say the same old things.
Comparing fruits and meats.
We all say the same old things.
In the end, it doesn’t matter what we eat.
Wistfully we dismiss what’s important.
Wistfully we dismiss what’s important.
Differences that make us orphaned.
Reading the back of the book, a bad habit.
Missing out on stories that can happen.
Interruption is all it takes.
Quick trips to rewire your brain.
Try and have a second thought.
Your first may be your last shot.
The oldest trick covered in age.
Who would have thought that things could change?
A simple look through the bird’s eye
can make the world seem bite-sized.
Wistfully we dismiss what’s important.
Wistfully we dismiss what’s important.
Differences that make us orphaned.
Reading the back of the book, a bad habit.
Missing out on stories that can happen.
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6. |
Manure Under the Soil
03:10
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7. |
Spit
01:53
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What do you want me to say?
“No, really it’s ok”?
What the future holds will make you pay.
Minds forced to be molded by the corner.
A pinched perspective is all that’s offered.
Fragile skin is dismissed and tortured.
It’s hard to
Speak when your
Mouth has been
Sewn shut
Why can’t you come with me?
It’s really a small party.
Why can’t you act like a normal being?
Stripped and open for the room to see.
“Please nobody look at me”.
The image of my former self cannot escape.
It’s hard to
Speak when your
Mouth has been
Sewn shut
Even after cutting the thread.
And spitting out all this dread.
It’s not enough to make things change.
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8. |
Riding the Berry
03:13
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9. |
A Song About Flowers
02:05
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My flowers keep falling over
It’s not a metaphor.
But now I think it’s cause they’re feeling so ignored.
That they would rather die from falling on the floor.
My flowers keep falling.
It’s not a metaphor.
I once thought.
They were reaching for the light.
But now I think it’s cause they’re feeling so ignored.
That they would rather die from falling on the floor.
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10. |
Vicious Cycles
02:39
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Full of frustration
Take a drink.
Have a smoke.
Wasting money.
Wasting me.
Feeling nothing.
I must be nothing.
Now I’m frustrated.
So I’ll take a drink and
have a smoke.
(AGAIN)
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Eyes On Lips Collective Alabama
Experimental-Rock collective operating out of Wisconsin and Alabama.
Eyes On Lips Collective recommends:
Entrance to the Mountain
by Mount Vesuvius Death March
Taylor Adams has been a great friend to Eyes On Lips. In fact, the artwork for "Sounds From A Theme Park" was graciously created by him. Go check out his project!
go to album
Pace House was instrumental in the recording process of our first LP. Thank you to Mason for allowing us to record at your place! Thank you to Paul from AQUA Records for recording. Thank you, Taylor!
go to albumIf you like Vicious Cycles, you may also like:
You Wanted the Bike
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The soaring arcs of post-rock, the punchy rhythms of post-hardcore, and the jagged lines of post-punk all join on the latest from Aversions.
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Life's Too Good
by The Sugarcubes
featured on Bandcamp Radio Apr 12, 2022
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Ornamental Hermit
by Beige Banquet
Across their second full-length, the London post-punks offer up thrumming motoriks, industrial tones, and sullen sing-a-longs in abundance.
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Сатира и Юмор Начала XXI в.
by Квалиа
Noisy Siberian post-punk with mathcore's sense of inventive tempo and vocals that nearly howl with urgent insistence.
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