Better off Dead

by Crows

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credits

released December 6, 2014

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Crows Dublin, Ireland

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Track Name: Dead Air (Rosbeg)
So you're not to blame; the problem's deeper again,
Now you're a scapegoat, for people like me
To piss off, and hold up, and shout down, and shit on.
So you're not to blame; the problem's deeper again,
Now you're a scapegoat, for people like me
To piss off, and hold up, and shout down, and shit on.

Well excuse me if I can't feel sorry for a fifty year old career politician.
Tell me this, did no one ever teach you to think for yourself?
Force a change or stop wasting my time.
Track Name: Suburbia Nervosa
I can't breathe - this society is pushing down on me.
And I hate this island, and I hate this scene.
You put me in my place and tell me I'm happy.
Born. Work. Fuck up. Die. Suburbia nervosa.
Track Name: Malediction II
Even if you're offering full surrender,
I'd still curse you with my last breath.
But why give up your rightful place at head
of this kingdom of filth.

Hail to the heir to the throne -
Forever spiralling out of control.
Forever fighting for a chance to roll
on everyone around you,
And hold on to pointless assholes.
From forever to now, I'll mark you down

As one out of mind
And my life in shit
And you free to steal and laugh about it.

And I'll mark you down
As conspiring to sell all this
Garbage at hand as fact and still pray that
hell hath fury without you,
I just don't have pity for your fucking shit.
Hell hath fury without you, I just can't escape your fucking stink.
Track Name: Power Trip
New world order, paranoia, fear of mutually assured mac donalds,
and I can't fight this itch that someone is following me, someone's compiling a list,
Of all my secret things and fucking bad habits.
And I'm losing sight, this fucking onslaught of shitty tv and microwaved thought,
has me choking to death, I can't breathe through it,
And trapped in this head I'm fucking losing it.
Cut me down, lay me out, six feet underground. Better off dead.
Track Name: Enter the Crownado
I'm surrounded my people hellbent on taking my fucking money from me,
You're a commodity, I'm a commodity.
I'm sold soulless and copied, only alive if I'm fucking worth something to somebody.
I hope I'm dead real soon, before I do something you wouldn't want me to do.
I hope I'm dead real soon before I do some real fucking damage.
You say you're sick of the cults, and live in fear of a rapist fucking church - well try deal with the Irish public.
In hell we sell ourselves. And I'm not pro-anything anymore.
Track Name: Better off Dead
You're stepping on my rights I'm gonna step thru your fucking brain,
I'm shouting union rep but he's fucking little kids.
Your soul's just landfill waste, hand up your co-workers dress,
And I'm still losing this fight?
I hate my job. And when I'm in work I want to knife my boss and mince my own head. Better off dead.
Track Name: Guilt Trip
And I have to live with this history of bullshit and murder,
and self-righteous politics, hammered out and battered down
until no one ever fucking talks about how there's no fucking way out.
There's no fucking way out.

School's out and I ain't learned a thing except
my colour is king and my violence is king
and on this trip to the top I've got an 800 year start
so why not fucking give in?
And on this trip to the top I've got an 800 year start so why not?

Gentrified, globalised, no lessons learnt for the hundredth millionth time.
I'm facing black mass, imperial eyes and chains hammered fast.

And I have to live with this, confused fucking guilt trip.
And I have to live with this consequence of fucking ignorance
And I'm fucking sick of it.
Track Name: Earth Won't Listen
I've got a bone to pick with whoever decided to get creative,
and put a wretch like me,
on a fucking planet with no future, no history.
And I can barely see past the fucking towers of the factory,
The worldwide soap opera playing on my tv,
Teaching me the tenants of my society.

I've got a bone to pick with whoever decided to get creative,
and put a wretch like me,
on a fucking planet, my septic penitentiary.
And I can barely see past the fucking towers of the factory,
The worldwide soap opera playing on my tv,
Teaching me the tenants of my society:

Consume, consume, supply/demand, wreak havoc, commit to destroy.

Understanding my life's ending, and ending for good,
Beneath the bent and bloodied tools of your good work.
Track Name: Malediction I
There's blood in my eyes, on the asphalt I'm failing
To find what's real in this cage that we're trapped in
To find what's real without fucking this up,
To see who bleeds in this fucking nothing
Just one more fight I'm willing to fucking take this,
Just one more punk prick and I want out.

100,000 replacements for 50 featureless faces,
I try to close my eyes to it but the stupidity is fucking relentless.
Suffer this confederation of dog piss playing to the script that you wrote.
But I'm screaming through the bullshit, I don't count one word that you spoke.

100,000 replacements for 50 featureless faces. I want out.
Out of this fucking black hole.
You sat back and watched it happening, but now it's happening to you, ha ha ha.
You sat back and watched it happening - you call it hate but it's whatever fucking sells,
you call it hate but lets see who's there when the storm comes.
Track Name: Death Crownado
There's no way out in this game
They make the rules but you blame
Anyone but the true fiends
Who hide in stilted routine
To repeat history and keep you as a postscript
An asterisk marking a perfect example for the slogan:
'the nail that stands up get hammered down.'

Turn back, holding your head in your hands,
And the fire in your throat cursing the scum
That left you like this.

Scum breeds faster in this town,
And every step that you take
Moves you further into a darkness
And I'm sick with it.
So now I'm the asshole,
I'm too weak, to survive by your rules,
So you're abandoning me.

Close your eyes, crack a smile, here hope dies, here your fate lies.

I'm eluding the cold hands of death again.

I've gone cold, I no longer feel,
No longer the agony, no longer the nails.
No rest for the wicked, no world for the meek,
No cure for the sickness, no escape no escape.
Nothing is real, I'm in abeyance,
Distorted and frail, surrounded by liars,
nothing is real, nothing but silence,
Nothing but fear, nothing but violence.

And you wont forget the words
When they put you in the dirt:
Should have tried harder to be like us.