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Electric Chairmen // Frenzy

by Electric Chairmen

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1.
Frenzy 03:29
Don’t bite the hand that’s gonna feed you, Question the carpet beneath you. Peace comes, we dream a dream too... Get on your knees, and believe what we do! What’s freedom? Federal fixed rates? Homes foreclosed? Said we’re better off this way. Bank loans... feed the scraps, We, the war torn middle class collapsed! .... Not so depressed. I got my dose, you can hold the rest. Sober, proposing a toast to friends, with a hole in my head, holding my chest. ... Drawn the fine line, Fraud’s a fine crime, honest, I’m lying, Frenzy! And whatever’s stopping you, get up, get out, get whatcha gotta do! CHORUS x 2 Get Right Do that for the beat, We ain’t got air to breathe, Got no food to eat... Get Right Do that for the beat! Reach... There’s no peace down in these streets! Nobody here is gonna please you. Test the test, it’s gonna beat you. So set on being so see-through, Better believe what the teacher teaches you. No rest, raise up the debt. Cold sweat, paper to get. Civil unrest getting disregarded, Some friends come, some friends departed... Dead! When the best are martyred, Like so many twenty-seven young guitarists. And all the kids you went to school with, are homeless, truth is they’re almost through it. As soon as cards are dealt, economic problems swell. On a scale of hot to hell, come on y’all, let’s call it out! CHORUS x2 Act like you’ve heard this before. They promise this and more. Hit the floor, this is war, shoot from the hip, like a pistol’s for. It’s like, training been meaning to be men. Sleep dreaming, steep is the deep-end. See, i suppose, we don’t fit the roles, so we rose on, all night long. One drop left to taste it... Two bread slices wasted... These souls you can’t save them, guess we’re too complacent One man blows up a building... Two don’t wanna have children... This kid’s food comes from stealing, guess that’s how we’re living. One outrageous symptom... Two weeks we were given... With distinct prescriptions, take pills to conceal your feelings. Hold the phone, and hold your own! Going for broke, holy smoke. Revoke! Don’t choke, homes, it’s a dosey doe, or get stone cold like Tussaud’s!

about

Lyrics written and performed by Blackboltt.
Produced by Fresh Kils.
Marty on the horns.

Artwork & Design by Winchester
winchesterart.ca

credits

released September 1, 2012

J. Taboika, M. Matuszczak, A. Kilgour

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all rights reserved

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