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End Position

by Street Sects

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nnpoc. This is the type of album you listen to while cowering in the corner in the fetal position with tears streaming down your face. End Position is abrasive, horrifying, nihilistic, and brilliant. Favorite track: If This is What Passes for Living.
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silver-soot One of the most blistering and aggressive industrial albums since... shit, who knows how long. Unlike most other modern industrial acts, this isn't just 90s nostalgia either -- their sound is unique and challenging, even with its influences Favorite track: In Defense of Resentment.
NightSkye thumbnail
NightSkye One of the most caustic and abrasive industrial records I've heard in a long time, with some killer melodies, horrifying samples, and tragic but extremely poetic lyrics on top, this album is everything I want out of industrial music. Favorite track: And I Grew into Ribbons.
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    Fourth pressing of End Position. Black Vinyl.

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AND I GREW INTO RIBBONS numb no longer afraid numb disinhibited dead on my feet i’m always walking towards the exit no good deed unpunished no encouragement i get tired of the things i claim to love i get tired of the thing that i’ve become every good thing in my life comes at someone else’s expense numb no longer afraid numb disinhibited wake up and say something do something, make something pretend to feel something wait for the day to end the problem with giving a shit is no one thanks you and they always want more i wish i had done something else with my life i get tired of trying to convince myself not to pull the trigger not to turn out the light
COPPER IN THE SLOTS that stain on the sidewalk there? that used to be someone i knew twenty three and dreaming twenty three and glowing he can’t hear us where’d the money come from? where’d the clothes come from? you’re not welcome here ever again take your venom with you no parade no facade no bouquets no black cars no redeeming values no remorse no song not the first, not the last just a ripple in the tide laying blame, attaching guilt won’t remove it from our minds if pressed, i might say that we all deserve to feel ashamed look at your hands, they’re the same as mine so soiled you can’t see color
IN DEFENSE OF RESENTMENT fear of money fear of love fear of being undone fear of conscience fear of law fear of living too long each time you reach out i find it strange seems like a waste of goodwill you’ve shared your dreams recounted “wins” i can’t relate to those things i wouldn’t last a night in your head with your thoughts of right and wrong good and bad you have nothing of worth to offer me nothing but guilt and luxury underneath your disguise the dream is suffering vanishing i’m at home with my faults i don’t need your friendship your judgement your passive aggressive concern i’ve got fear i’ve got hate i’ve got the things you can’t chase out hiding in plain sight and you’ve settled down now to die in the same cage you were born and raised in bury the sentiment bury the good intent i don’t deserve your affection piss on your selflessness fuck your forgiveness i don’t believe in redemption
FEATHERWEIGHT HATE blamed your defeat on your so called disease i was certain you’d die staring drunkenly into my eyes and your worth was obscured no one valued your word your last ride in my car bought you a dime behind bars leaving a wife and child to fend for themselves carrying secrets you knew they’d be too scared to tell blamed your arrest on your poor taste in friends but it wasn’t their fault you let desperation break your heart and i know it was wrong to never visit or call but as our mother would say i had my own debts to pay on the eve of your release i began trembling as thoughts raced through my mind i’d heard talk of how you’d changed inside so i showered and then loaded my shotgun and sat facing the door to welcome my brother back home
Our Lesions 04:39
OUR LESIONS hung beneath the lurid glare of ruined dreams raw conceit dressed in flesh and human heat another broken clock well cleaned a future of self prescribed irrelevance the color of debt and subjugation hard time a bottomless well of wishes unfulfilled a semi-erect, neglected pawn living in guilt, regret and negligence dying face down on a soiled mattress same four grey walls spinning do we seem miserable? how should we feel? when their fat hands keep reaching out to take what’s ours they want us to like it our black hole settle in and get sucked down celebrate our decline with closed eyes suspicion and fear decide our moral code while faith in ourselves flickers out assuming the worst is always preferable to giving the benefit of doubt the devil we know, the devil in our hearts the lover we hide from all our friends the secret we keep until our dying hour the terminal hope that we refuse to let go of... that there is more beyond death there is love but the pain just gets worse as you age you’d better get used to its claim on your dwindling remainder of days you’ll put a face to the name of the phantom that drove you insane she waits patiently to take you away but every once in a while the list of mistakes you’ve compiled seems irrelevant and slips from your mind and in those moments the weight holding you down fades away and with the pressure removed you can almost see who you thought you would be far removed from the body and mind you reluctantly still occupy
VICTIMS OF NOSTALGIA you act like you’re already dead looping a dream of a past you’d kill to relive worthless sentiment, inward conceit years of your life cannibalized never forget that it’s not what you’ve done or what you’ve done lately, but what you are working on now crimes of denial crimes of reverie crimes of homage crimes of vanity i can’t live like that i can’t live like that i won’t fucking live like that
Black Din 02:49
BLACK DIN it all started by questioning our worth a dream shattered by doubt i ended one life to start another but i couldn’t accept the ending we’re all the same kind of murderers here killing our better selves, nurturing fear getting off on the pain a heart full of need a lust for death anesthetized but still aware that i might swallow my tongue and if i get to numb to care then i will eat my gun we’re all the same kind of murderers here cheating on suicide until we miss her and want her again she may not forgive, but she gives in a black din home again i dug my grave around ten years back i often go there to relax lying there the noise fades away one of these days i’ll just stay and sleep but not today not until i see the ending there’s always at least one piece of shit who wants nothing more than to see you fail death is a release from all their resentment but life is a wire around their throat
FEIGNING FAMILIARITY i’ve pushed a chair below the fixture i’ve tied a knot around the rod still i’ve yet to find the courage to take that step forward coiled around each moment growing in our organs nobody gets around it friendships never feel substantial lovers see me at my worst no joy in social interaction no pleasure left in sexual conquest just wasted life force torn flesh an overrated high once the body exceeds its shelf life there’s no temptation or desire seems like every connection that i make inevitably turns morose or banal but chasing comfort through the gutters led me here one fix away from a perfect place into the fold of heaven’s captives locked in a cell behind its gates stripping away the moral bondage laying the mind and heart to rest into the burn gathering light severing self from flesh and blood into the void into the end falling spinning suddenly i am moving through the moments of my crimes seeing myself through my victim’s eyes now i am the carrion my own release the blackest recess my deepest need i’m not suffering i am blossoming into an absence an open vacancy i’m not afraid i am finally at peace
COLLARED, KEPT cash one last paycheck make one last purchase i know you’re sorry you’re always sorry first it’s your job then it’s your dreams next it’s your teeth you’re losing fucked all your friends exhausted your means not that you care what happens now you’ve burned all connections learned no real lesson it’s mommy’s money she’s always obliged to help you fuck up your life more smoke and relax, kid nothing bad happens to you close the blinds and lock the door turn the lights off and flick the wheel push the chore boy back and forth heat the stem until it hits there’s always one more hit go ahead try it again why can’t you sleep why can’t you cum why won’t your mind stop racing check the front door someone’s outside why won’t your heart stop racing how’d your belly get so big why are you covered in your own shit hammering nails through your fucking skull i hope you like what’s coming
IF THIS IS WHAT PASSES FOR LIVING i’ve been here a while now serving my time watching the clock run down waiting holding my anger down i fought for a long while i tried to make good for all of the things i’d done but i know your trust in me can never be rebuilt i can dress up like a family man but you know that suit never quite fit and i can’t afford to have you staring at my back i could move across the world and you would still be here waiting counting every day so i’m burning the whole thing down this home... it’s a prison cell so i’m burning the whole thing down we are a virus we’re a product of bad luck we scream our way into existence nine months after someone else gets fucked death as an option is a comforting idea continuing in misery is something we do mostly out of fear we are malignant, there’s no intelligent design we’re a cancer feeding violently upon the flesh of that which gives us life death as an ending is a comfort to keep in mind we forget that waking up each day is just a habit we can choose to die i’ve been waiting my entire life


released September 16, 2016


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Street Sects Austin, Texas

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