1. |
War Fair
03:35
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Bombs drop to the open streets, obliterate the ground beneath. Shrapnel sprays from buildings. Concrete rains down on their naked feet. Cityscapes reduced to gore. Limbs and last breaths sear through the air. Children grow up without a pair. Do the people at the top even fucking care?
It’s a mass slaughter of mankind, orders sent down the line from a crooked spine. Broken men now suited up for the grind, to hit the battlefield, where they’ll lay right down to…
Die. Join their brothers who will…
Die. This isn’t the place to…
Die. Time after time men and women are sent off to…
And it’s not fair. It’s a lie.
Commit your years. So much you’ll train, to learn the fight and desensitize pain. The horrors of war imprinted on your brain. It all means nothing. It’s just another fucking day. Until you awake from a horrid dream, alone in your bed to the sound of your screams, echoing those you’ve forced from others. No mercy to be shown when we’re all just numbers who will…
Die. Join your brothers who will…
Die. This isn’t the place to…
Die. Time after time men and women are sent off to…
Die in the name of peace.
Billows of smoke glimpse the sky. Burning bodies that were once alive. Helpless hands grasp for life. A glaze of red seals lifeless eyes. Take a breath, the last breath you’ll take. Remember your life, sight of a loved one’s face. The world is cruel, so fuck the human race. The world is cruel, so fuck the human…
Race to the finishing place. Gold metal in teeth, leaders knock down those who get in their way. No limits to their rampage. Their carnivorous fangs sink into debauchery and greed and then we’ll…
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2. |
West of Freedom
02:09
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Well you’ve been wrongfully convicted of a heinous crime.
Portrayed by the media as a criminal fucking mind.
Agonizing years spent behind metal bars.
Tortured and brutalized by inmates and guards.
The years that have elapsed you will never retrieve.
Lies told to attorneys strip away your humanity.
The truth is swayed by the pressure witnesses receive.
Locked up and spit on, but you still kept your sanity.
How are you still sane?
They took my life away from me.
The crown is aware of your innocence, despite your guilty plea.
Humiliate and pressure you against your will.
And then they want to set you free?
Expect it all just to go away?
White trash, they’re monsters, the only ones who could do such. Ain’t it obvious? Satanists, the one led a cult, but they never suspected the real monsters at fault. The police force confession, put the words in the mouth of a teen, vulnerable as an infant. The case was corrupt. Then they were thrown behind bars, down on their luck. Their hands wear the blood.
They took my life away from me.
The crown is aware of your innocence, despite your guilty plea.
Humiliate and pressure you against your will.
And then they want to set you free?
Expect it all just to go away?
They took my life away from me.
Eighteen years and 78 days.
Stolen, cheated, imprisoned.
The world has gone and moved on, changed its ways.
You expect their lives to go on the same?
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3. |
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Capitalize on the working masses. We’re a million to one, yet the one’s still laughing. They’ve got their hands in your wallets, fingers in your purses. Hoard your nickels because you’ve worked it, you’ve earned it.
Take and take, slim down my bottom line. I’ve been taxed to death, start working overtime. The tax man’s fist is coming down on my door. He’s going to broaden the gap between the rich and the poor.
Don’t want to give my dreams to feed the money machine.
Don’t want to break my back then come apart at the seams.
Tossed aside, thrown face down into the dirt, as they stomp your back further into the earth. No lending hand to help you back to your feet. Still they take you for all you’re fucking worth.
Don’t want to give my dreams to feed the money machine.
Don’t want to break my back then come apart at the seams.
Minutes turn to hours, hours turn to days, and at the end of the month, you feed the money machine. Pennies turn to dollars, and dollars turn to debt, because you’ve lost it all to feed the money machine.
Don’t want to give my dreams to feed the money machine.
Don’t want to break my back then come apart at the seams.
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4. |
Punish the Sickened
02:28
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You spring up out of nowhere, when we’re most comfortable and when we don’t check our doors. You prey on our routine, keeping in line when we’re full but always searching for holes. You sink your teeth into ambush, pursuing teenage girls down dark suburban roads. I think it’s safe to assume that it's unsafe. Night or day in a crowd, all alone or asleep, they’re all around.
Here they come. Here they come again. We’ve got to punish the sickened. Seek them out. Seek them out and then we’ve got to teach them a lesson. It’s not your body, not your body, not your fucking mind. It’s not my problem, not my problem, that you deserve to fucking die, you slime.
You’re a cockroach of the night. You’re hungry for innocence and on the naïve you feast. There’s an accumulation of trust, then the youth’s future is assailed by the demented. They’re lured in by kindness, ignorant to the danger descending upon them. You ravage the vulnerable, fragile and frail. You fucking cowardly pig.
Here they come. Here they come again. We’ve got to punish the sickened. Seek them out. Seek them out and then we’ve got to teach them a lesson. It’s not your body, not your body, not your fucking mind. It’s not my problem, not my problem, that you deserve to fucking die. So die, you slime.
Serve a life sentence of torture and pain. A moment’s pleasure you obtain. Reconciled actions by a demented world. You continue to ravage naïve boys and girls. Illness spread to exposed eyes. It seems you’re everywhere. You’re in disguise. Your immoral acts strip dignity. Savage predator on unsuspecting prey.
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5. |
Torrid Soils
03:03
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You faint from the heatwave. The rivers decrease as the water evaporates. The sun’s scorched the fields. The soil’s infertile. The earth’s parched and drained. Soon the grains that we feed our children will be sparse and rare. There’ll be no means to sprout them. Familiar landscapes turn black and barren and dead, all stripped down to hardpan.
These are our soils, depleted and dried up and spoiled.
This is our home, but we can’t leave it alone.
The damage has already been done. Petals burnt on the most natural gift from the sun. In a short time to come, you’ll take what you can, take it and run. Soon the grains that we feed our children will be sparse and rare. There'll be no means to sprout them. Familiar landscapes turn black and barren and dead, all stripped down to hardpan.
These are our soils, depleted and dried up and spoiled.
This is our home, but we can’t leave it alone.
I gaze up to the sky as it fills with smoke, acres of our backyards covered in soot. Evacuate your towns cause the flames are running wild. A massive wall of fire tears a hole through your scape. Creatures disappear from their homes, seeking shelter. Fighters draw more water that we can’t spare. Splashed across the now flattened dead land. Blackened, burnt-up precious land.
These are our soils, depleted and dried up and spoiled.
This is our home, but we can’t leave it alone.
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6. |
Land Fill
03:18
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We are superior as history clearly states. You know, our knowledge is much greater, so just bow down and wait. Wait for your slaughter, wait for your rape. Wait for your existence to be served on a plate.
Clear cut and build.
Build our machines. Spread our disease, and kill everything in our path that attempts to even breathe. We do it for fashion, fucking comfort and ease, and keep on advancing until all life on earth is seized.
Clear cut and build, ‘til every inch of land is filled.
We are going full speed ahead, straight to our demise. Leave a trail of red. Everything in our path must die. Grind the planet down right to the fucking core, and demolish all existence to the point of no restore.
Clear cut and build. There’s no place to run and no place to hide. All presence on earth must be destroyed.
Clear cut and build, ‘til every inch of land is filled.
Locate a drill until all our resources are milled. And oil is spilled.
Mark my fucking words: they’ll fill every fucking inch. They’ll plow down our forests and they’ll dump in our lakes, and at the end of the day, you see, that’s all that it takes. To turn our planet into nothing more than concrete and stocks, until it crumbles beneath us from the damage, from the shock. If history's a lesson, we should learn from our mistakes, harbouring only what we need and using everything we take.
Clear cut and build, ‘til every inch of land is killed.
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7. |
They Live
02:38
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They live, they smile, they breathe. On a back-burner a society bleeds. They grin, direct, they rule. We shed our sweat and act the fool. They tell us to marry and reproduce, tell us to purchase land, settle down and consume. Take out loans, accept the terms, then sign the pad with our blood and dirt.
Obey the golden rule: the rich make the rules.
Suffer and suffocate.
They live atop a dark tower of black, ride a horse as high, if not higher, than that. They hover a black shroud over our eyes, camouflage their sins and keep us in line. They force us to submit to their tyrants to fucking thicken their power. The moment we take breath our first breath is soured.
Obey the golden rule: the rich make the rules.
Suffer and suffocate.
They tell me to suffer and suffocate, obey the rules they lay. Tell me to domesticate. Tell me it’s all work no play. Tell me what they want I won’t obey the rules they lay. Tell me to accommodate. Call me a subordinate. Tell me what they want I won’t obey the rules they lay.
Follow the rules, boy, and get back in line. Conforming to me is just a waste of fucking time. If you don’t listen to us, son, you’ll never succeed. I will never assimilate. I’d rather choke and bleed. Follow. I will never fucking follow.
Obey the golden rule: the rich make the rules.
Suffer and suffocate.
They live, they smile, they breathe. On a back-burner a society bleeds. They grin, direct, they rule. We shed our sweat and act the fool. They tell us to keep quiet and enjoy this fucking life that they’ve provided, keep at bay and keep compliant until we die. They live.
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8. |
Take the Reins
02:45
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Our world’s a butcher’s blade, sharpened on a slate. You’ve got to grow a hide. It’s do or die. Skin too thick to break. But I can hardly stand it. It’s a struggle that I can’t shake.
But the blood and sweat, it frees me. The pain alleviates. Set a course and make it happen. Take off your harness, cut the rope, set a goal, and run it rampant. In the era of struggle, man, you’ve got to fight to take the cake.
Keep control. Always keep control. In a whirlwind, whiplash city you’ve got to keep control, never lose control. Because the hardships take their toll. Keep control. Always keep control. Your life is at your doorstep. Keep control. Never lose control. So open it up and take a fucking stroll.
Our culture’s a Spartan’s shield. You just can’t break so learn to embrace. A kamikaze mission to survive. They can set a path, but it’s up to you to determine your destiny. The passion, pride, ambition will free me. The pain alleviates.
Keep control. Always keep control. In a whirlwind, whiplash city you’ve got to keep control, never lose control. Because the hardships take their toll. Keep control. Always keep control. Your life is at your doorstep. Keep control. Never lose control. So open it up and grab ahold.
When you’re feeling hung-up, beaten, trampled, completely dismantled. On a raging manhunt for an escape into comfort and ease.
Keep control. Always keep control. Your life is at your doorstep. Keep control. Never lose control. So open it up. Don’t keep it fucking closed, no.
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9. |
Pet Sematary
03:01
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Under the arc of a weather-stained board. Ancient goblins and warlords. Come out the ground, not making a sound. The smell of death is all around. And the night when the cold wind blows. No one cares, nobody knows.
I don't want to be buried in a pet sematary.
I don't want to live my life again.
Follow Victor to the sacred place. This ain't a dream, I can't escape. Molars and fangs, the clicking of bones. Spirits moaning among the tombstones. And the night when the moon is bright. Someone cries, something ain't right.
I don't want to be buried in a pet sematary.
I don't want to live my life again.
The moon is full, the air is still. All of the sudden Netflix and chill. Victor is grinning, flesh is rotting away. Skeletons dance, I curse this day. And the night when the wolves cry out. Listen close and you can hear me shout.
I don't want to be buried in a pet sematary
I don't want to live my life again.
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10. |
Block Party Bloodbath
02:34
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One hundred people scream out in the streets. Bodies get trampled as they try to flee. A party turned nightmare on Execution Street. A party turned bloodbath in the summer heat. Glasses hit the ground. Gunshots ring out loud through the panicked crowd. The party is over, now. The party is done. It’s a massacre in the summer sun.
Welcome to the block party bloodbath. An east-end street has turned to a warpath. People scatter in fear as they’re forced to face death, forced to run fast. Run! Run for your life. They blocked it off with a barricade. Now they line the streets with yellow tape.
The aftermath spells a horror scene as broken glass and bullet shells litter the streets. An act of gang war, a reflection of hate. Spilt beer and blood streaks stain the pave. Pedestrians hit the ground, cup their hands to their ears to muffle the sound. The sirens are ringing, now. The party is done. It's a massacre in the summer sun.
Welcome to the block party bloodbath. An east-end street has turned to a warpath. People scatter in fear as they’re forced to face death, forced to run fast. Run! Run for your life. They blocked it off with a barricade. Now they line the streets with yellow police tape.
Pack up your lawn chairs, your beer koozies. It’s time to go. Cut the DJ, hit the deck as the bullets fly. The summer sky shimmering heat from the barrel of a gun. It's time to go because the party is done.
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WAR FAIR Ottawa, Ontario
Straight out of Canada's chilly capital, this six-piece band consists of members from Nummies, Hands of the Few, The Valveenus, and Gusto Fiasco. Formed in the fall of 2012, WAR FAIR strives to produce an original sound that combines elements of punk, hardcore, and thrash. ... more
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