, Dies

by Gouge Away

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1.
00:35
2.
01:41
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5.
01:16
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02:29
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01:55
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02:29
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03:16

credits

released February 13, 2016

Tracked and Mixed at Iceman Studios by Daniel Colombo
Mastered by Alan Douches at West West Side Music
Cover Drawing by: Simona Morales
Eighty-Sixed Records

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Gouge Away Fort Lauderdale, Florida

May 27-29
RAIN FEST SEATTLE, WA

West Coast Tour w/ Maladjusted
5.31 Portland, OR
6.01 Chico, CA
6.02 Berkeley, CA
6.03 Fullerton, CA
6.04 San Diego, CA

Oct 28-30 FEST 15
Gainesville, Fl
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Track Name: Bleed
Keep your sweaty palms and eager fingers to yourself.
Drown in your words like the bile they are.
Fear me like a venomous snake.
I want to make you shake.
Fuck my knife.
Track Name: Calloused
I’ve got blisters on my feet
Trying to find a route around your mistreat
-mentally defeated
I’ve got blisters on my hands
And if you had to try you’d fail by your demands
I’ve got blisters on my hands.
Slashing the backpack straps
Slapping the forks from their hands
White collar bullies. White collar swine.
White collar fuckers with worms for spines.
I’ve got blisters on my back
The sun is going to make me crack
Track Name: Exhibit: Closed
What makes you think it’s your decision
To tell someone that they are less of a human?
It’s all dictation from the underground or from the institution
It’s all, “Be yourself but only if it fits within our vision”
To get into their head, to get into their skin
I won’t let you decide what’s human.
I won’t let you decide.
So fuck off.
Get out.
It’s not about what makes you comfortable or what you expect.
Expect more
Accept less shit
(Another dead, Lie in the street
In the name of "family"
Chalk up one more deceased
We see right through you
Transparent flesh
Self-serving sanctity;
How can you stand the sight of your reflection?)
Your sense of entitlement is to blame.
Tolerance is suppressed
By the same hands ignorance clenched
Roles and stereotypes that should have been buried in the past
Not the lives of our friends
So fuck off.
Get out.
Eat shit.

additional lyrics and vocals by: Madison Turner
Track Name: Until Every Cage is Empty
spoken word by: Maru Lopez
Track Name: Uproar
I’ve got bolts in my neck but I’m no monster
I’ve got bolts in my head but I’m no monster
I’m not made for your science experiment
I’m not made for your science experiment
I’ve got bolts in my spine but I’m no monster
I’ve got bolts in my brain but I’m no monster
I’m not made for your science experiment
I’m not made for your science experiment
I’ve got bolts in my neck but I’m no monster
I’ve got bolts in my head but I’m no monster
I’m not made for your science experiment
I’m not made for your science experiment
Stop testing on me
Stop testing on me
Stop testing me
I’ve got bolts in my neck but I’m no monster
I’ve got bolts in my head but I’m no monster
Bolts in my neck
Bolts in my head
Bolts in my spine
Bolts in my brain
Track Name: No White Flag
Oppressors, upholding a racist system
Choosing to forfeit their moral decisions
Not even a dilemma, not even a second thought
Besides what’s one more unarmed person getting shot?
Another word for “unarmed” is “target”
In the mind of a bigot.
We know who you’re protecting
We know who you’re targeting
Another killed by a fucking cop.
When Justice comes knocking at the door with a warrant,
You’ll be trembling behind the couch at your tyrant
Shooting through the windows and the doors until she’s lifeless
But she’ll never be lifeless
And she’s coming to remind you.
She’s coming for you
Denial – blood on your hands
Complicity – blood on your hands
Silence – blood on your hands
Neutrality – blood on your hands

additional vocals by: Chris Evering
Track Name: Enough.
Eyes like wolves hunting innocent prey
Seeking out victims to play in your game
Manipulate to fill inside where you've dug your own void
Memories are creeping, and stalking, and haunting
Unfriendly reminders of fiendish behaviors still
Fingertips drag across flesh
Like fragments chisel in a headstone
Invading the hairs on my skin
Crawling up the spine, consuming the mind
Doubting myself because I didn't fight or scream
Keeping your transgression buried underneath
I've done enough believing in the devil
That I forgot who he was after.
Selfish ways have become sadistic
I wasn't born to die a statistic
Silenced by shame, I've hid in secret
I wasn't born to die a statistic
Questioned what I should have done different
I wasn't born to die a statistic
This isn't my guilt to live with
I wasn't born to die a statistic
I wasn't born to die a statistic
I wasn't born to die a statistic
Track Name: Who Needs Language
Where do you expect to go?
Who's going to find you there?
Do they even deserve you?
Track Name: When There's Eye Contact
You will never see the whole picture searching through a microscope
A tongue with no muscles
Limp and useless
Now afraid to be bitten
You’ve got so much advice
For a virus, an infection
For someone with no fingerprints
You’re quite the distraction
Adding insult to injury
Not a spec of decency
Just and enforcement of discouragement
With nothing to contribute
Fencewalking's all you do.
There’s no prescription for the jaded
But I think I’ve got the cure
Fencewalker
Track Name: Dirt Nap
I should be dripping
Counting down the hours til I’m dripping
I should be draining
Counting down the hours til I’m draining.
I know that I don’t need it
It just feels so good
Being so damn delicate
And coming so close.
I can’t focus
I just want the control
To inhale wet soil
Feed fingernails to worms
I want roots to clutch the neck
Been practicing waiting patiently
When crawling to the door
Is like squeezing water from stone
A crater broke at the surface
I walked up to the edge
Careful not to fall in
I thought I was drowning but I already had
Track Name: Subtract & Divide
You say it’s our fault that the kids aren’t learning
You subtract encouragement to make us feel worthless
You steal our supplies and treat us like criminals
While pleading for band-aids and glue
Yet all you give us are higher demands
And daily trainings are just reprimands
Modern education is a sweatshop
Throw the wrenches in the cogs to make this machine stop
I won’t teach by your standards
So I’m not your kind of teacher
Fuck this abuse
To comply –I refuse.
Working for free ain’t working for me
For someone who spits on and on about accountability
I see you owning up to nothing.
Exploit children who need help most for your own avail
While you dissolve the services that should be entailed
Teaching is not ink on paper
Learning is not submissive
Half off teachers, defeated and abused.
Half off education, tired and used.
Track Name: R.O.T.
(Everyone is a soiled dove
Born into a shit existence
Until the day that we cleanse our wings
Resist)
Oppressive tradition in constant control. Bags under eyes forcing your face into dirt. Bury your head when you can no longer see. Comfort in lack of responsibility. Like vultures scavenging the meat from the bones, before the body becomes a carcass. It's dove eat dove: to clip the wings or be clipped? How does one drag their feet through another day?
If you're falling asleep you better wake, to listen to the voices as they chant in the street, demanding the right to stand on two feet, without rubber bullets cutting them down to their knees. Wouldn't it be easy to pretend it's not a problem? Why get your hands dirty when it takes more time to clean them? A revolution's going on whether or not you back it. So stop fucking talking and for once step back and listen.

additional vocals by: Peter Kovalsky
Track Name: Wildflowers
We’ve got a problem. We’re stomping on each other’s heads, climbing and clawing to the top of a mountain, do we even care for claiming? We’ve got a problem. We’ve found ourselves in a ring, fighting a fight that we’re all losing and we didn’t ask for this match. We have built up internalized hate. And if we could dig to the bottom we would find that it needs uprooting. So dig. We’re running a race that no one is winning. Panting and tiring ourselves out. You’ve got to be sick of this, too. So dig.
Eradicate. Eliminate
Eradicate. Eliminate.
It’s not a contest when we’re just fighting to exist. Resistance is stronger together. Don’t step back, don’t step aside, step up. It’s not a contest when we’re just fighting to exist. Voices are louder together. Don’t step back, don’t step aside, step up.
Weeds are just plants out of place, With no need to invade if embraced.
Aren’t you sick of this too?
Thicker skin when we have eachother’s backs
Aren’t you sick of this too?
Wounds mend stronger when we heal together

additional vocals by: Simona Morales and Maru Lopez