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Self Serving Saviors

by SPIT SPEWING SNAKES

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1.
The Head 00:48
I. THE HEAD Here we’re left with a crooked house For we took advice from every gaping mouth, Never did learn to watch our step We deserve the bloody stumps that are left. Wading into your dead field Where traps you laid slept concealed And tongues rained down on hollowed grounds “Rather earn this name than deliver it found.” Beware the fury of a patient man, He’s got grudges neck in his hand. And the first stone in the other, Cain waiting calmly for his brother.
2.
The Lore 01:54
II. THE LORE It’s a cock and bull story, true Americana lore That our feet will stay planted once this cotton hits the floor It appears were still wet behind our ears, Though our high horses came in our early years. “Son your first steps better come soon, you’re on company time once exhumed from that womb” passed from room to room as they see you groomed Pick another strand from the laymen’s life loom. “Son your first steps better come soon, you’re on company time once exhumed” To all those still living in a one horse town, it’s raining white feathers as were spiraling down. Thanks to all the cowards, for leaving suits so vacant For we are now wise to all your blanket statements. But why should they fear for they’ve feathered their nests? They’ve choked the early bird til its last breath Thanks to all the cowards, for leaving suits so vacant, For we are now wise to all your blanket statements. To all those still living in the one horse town It’s raining white feathers as were spiraling down. Thanks to all the cowards, for leaving suits so vacant For we are now wise to all your bullshit statements
3.
III. The Kids From The Curb Spare that old St. Francis pull, a savior for these animals. Inspired desires will always expire, For the higher require the old ways to retire. This is not a ghost nor a pale standard, It’s a route around a ridge that we’ve been handed. Now another vein has been found, Now lays another’s bother in the ground. The list of the kids form the curb grows thin, I’ve scribed those words with my best intentions. Spare that old St. Francis pull, a savior for these animals. Complicated errors to discuss with yourself, Are just easy problems that were built for someone else. And this is how a tall-tailed imagination comes to grips, With a stone sound sense of sensibility within its lips. For the new traditions of the true rumors are the homeless shelters for these honest crooks.
4.
IV. The Enlightened Crows Greasing palms is the only psalm That the penny pinchers revel in Giving rise to the prize in the plight of the present tense. We’ve poured oil over the troubled waters yet the waves haven’t ceased, for why would they bother? Why would they bother when silence is still water?
5.
V. The Dirty Shuffle Here it comes again like the glorious moments in the final strokes of the game. Enamored by the fact someone passed over, along thy name. Underlined in the material world; the high price of glam and the shame of the strange I would rather be the water than the rock in this run of the chain. We have something else to confess, these rose Kennedy’s don’t own a single black dress and close only counts when we’re struggling blind. Saving wits for a healthy harvest Seeing you stepped out lacking a harness. “Where’s my redemption from the only apparent desired convention?” At this point you’re still finger fucking the brim of your peer’s general aesthetics, Never to grow longer in mind, emulating an image, another mirrored mime. Here it comes again like the glorious moments in the final strokes of the game. Enamored by the fact someone has passed over and along thy name. Underlined in the material world; the high price of glam and the shame of the strange I would rather be the water than the rock in this run of the chain Water than the rock Water than the rock Rather be the water than that rock. We have something to confess These rose Kennedy’s don’t own a single black dress and close only counts when we’re struggling blind.
6.
The Tail 00:53
VI. THE TAIL Tucked into this bedlam, Where beauty and honesty barely agree. It’s is oh so clear necessity, Was not a bargain that was guaranteed. Where’s the point where you degrade our place? We’ve worked so hard and bannered in our human race. Rattled reality by its very gates, Nearly ripped the fucking hinges off that old grace. Approval is no longer an albatross, We’ve casted it without a kiss in a blind toss How about a toast to these last words? Try my best not to stumble over my curbed verbs. To keep this short, to keep this concise, “The best part of me is still begging for a fight.”

credits

released May 31, 2013

Recorded at The Freshcoast Collective in Detroit, MI

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SPIT SPEWING SNAKES Detroit, Michigan

Spry- Bass
Aaron- Guitar
Juice- Drums
Nate- Vocals

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