I don't care if you don't care

by ex-experts

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released April 6, 2006

guitars/vox - bryan
bass - dave
drums - nick


all rights reserved



DEEP FREEZE Toronto, Ontario

b. lyin / scrunched / crazed / darkly lit

scraps from scraps / 2005 onward

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Track Name: Terror in the folds
Shapeless terror in the folds
Captivating melodies
Breathlessly unravel into
Textures of discord

It pulls me close
Into a private apocalypse of dust
It pulls me close
To tapestries of peeling paint and arterial rust

The language of development rips me to shreds
Renovation twists the knife in histories condemned

It pulls me close
To issue termite-riddled prophecies
Tissue and bone
Beneath the whitewashed siding of the house

How do we forget?

The language of development rips us to shreds
Track Name: Arrotz herri otso herri
A stranger in the north
Of questionable worth
A lonely pack of wolves
No shade no complex hues

Never saw color come through
Never saw hate making roots

I may be party to the slaughter
But i'm trying hard to build something better
You've aged fermented hate to bitter ink
You drink yourselves to death on Euskadi

Roma are starving in your streets
North Africans are dealing in your streets
Americans are sleeping on your streets
You tell me they want it that way
You tell me they've got in coming

You are the force of the hate
You are the pack of wolves
Your nationalism's suicide
Your nationalism's murder
Track Name: I do not exist
How could I animate myself
Beneath a bloodstained sheet
Among a people doomed to terminate
In disbelief?

The vowels I sound in empty space
The chaos of the aether
The paradox of pitch
The dignity of chance

Every word I write is a sapling in bloom
Forging wiry roots
Under a sun burning brightly for one season
Before its promises are sealed in black ice

I do not exist
Track Name: Bind and blossom
What makes an idea beautiful
Is not who thought it first
Is not who said it loudest
Is not the secrets it unravels
Is not the side it verifies
Is not the colors of its flag
Is not the weight of its convictions

We can't afford to make nations of ideas
We can't afford to subdivide and quantify

What makes an idea beautiful
Is the confusion of potential
Is the struggle for vitality
Is smashing it up and giving the pieces away
Is the ugliness of fixation,
Of patterns and cycles and certainty

What makes an idea beautiful
Is having one, and knowing it
And planting it in the tall grass
And watching it splinter and spread
And bind and blossom
And freeze and grow over
And uncoil and burrow and fuckin' fight

What is there to hope for
If the mortar gets too strong
If the towers never tall
When the silt's too thick to drink?

If we always know what's coming
Nothing's worth the wait
If we see how it sends
How can we pose a threat?

If we see how it sends
What comes after that?

No blessings
No rest
Track Name: Generally speaking
New memory is wrought
From histories forethought and
Time is curved to meet at points
We faithfully forgot

Somewhere someone wants to see the proof

War's tragedies unspun
They saddle up the guns
Medals rusted in retreat
Made luminous by fresh conceit

Bombs are falling right through peoples' roofs

Our emperor is pleased
And polishes decrees
A solitary battle cry
Resounds infinitely

Generally speaking we've won
Generally speaking it was worth it
Deny it, forget it, file it away
Track Name: Cross the destroyer
Jesus christ
Harbinger of bigotry
Rotting on a cross for the righteous

Christ church
Malevolent ministry
Preying on the weak and their wallets

Organized hatred in the name of the father
Visionary armies poison hearts in the shadow of

The cross, the crutch, the rapture, the passion

Jesus christ
Harbinger of bigotry
Sanctify the homophobe, sanctify the patriarch

Christ church
Reaping endless bounty
Selling tickets to a public execution of the damned

Organized hatred in the name of the father
Children cower weakly in the parasitic shadow of

The cross, the crutch

Fuck spiritual salvation
Envision the cross in ruins and people reborn
Track Name: On shadowy shores
On shadowy shores
At the foot of a fortress
That shuddered its curses and
Tangled the lattice

A hope that could poison an ocean
Unmended old plagues and
Pretended new storms

We feel for somewhere else
But we're all standing here
There is no common pulse
It's bullshit poetry

We could walk for miles

We feel for colorful
But we won't bleed for it
We're afraid to sing off key
But no one's listening

The drama is flawless
The movement's well-staged
All six billion heroes
Play it viciously straight

Maybe something would give
If we climbed the dead trees
And made paint from pitch
In the swamps by the seas
Track Name: The well
Finally, by touch
Finely, by touch

A body learned to feel by being felt
And grappled with blight of rigid shells
The died to reconstruct a homemade self
/ orchestrate geographies of warmth

The sex that was is null, cannot suffice
We pantomime desire to suffer twice
The fix, the fucking fixes it
But nothing fucking wished for
Like the wholeness of a guiltless gender
Boy? The well is deep
I drink I sleep
And soak

If I had a thousand lives
I'd cut all my bloodlines
And nothing that's written
Could take me down with it

No basement incisions
No clinical visions

If I could survive it
I'd swim to the bottom of
The well that I came from
And uncover the spring

I'd learn to breathe there and
I'd be in no place

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