Only In Finite Time

by Die Off

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04:05

credits

released August 1, 2016

Die Off is:
Chase Cluff - Drums, Vocals, Lyrics
Darren Watts - Bass, Vocals
Shaun Conway - Guitar, Vocals

Recorded and mixed at The Boar's Nest by Andy Patterson
Mastered at Audiosiege by Brad Boatright
Album art by Jessica Bundy

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Die Off Salt Lake City, Utah

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Track Name: Conjure Nausea
Hey friend, let’s get sad. Compare headlines and conjure nausea. Sirens howl like wolves. Offerings of distraction to ensure tabs are kept; I wake up to the sound of garbage trucks then clock in at discount ambitions. Keep your fucking chin up and tow the line. “Aint life grand?” sighed the firing squad in unison.
Track Name: Empty Foundations
Every sect drawn to the city of grief in the name of their own idol of fear. Crawling limbless, bowing and cleaving. Spilling blood under the guise of His will. It's all so increasingly bleak. We built the guilt. We harbor grudges erected upon empty foundations. Only in finite time can we eradicate the infinite.
Track Name: The Silt Of The Earth
We grow like gunk in a neglected aquarium. Or rot like a log in a stagnant lake. Shifting. Slowly sinking in the silt. All providing, all devouring Earth. Digested into the muck. Deep in her belly, slowly turning back to the mud we once crawled from. All will be consumed, no morsel of life spared, for the appetite of death knows no limit. Imbibing the nectar. As we slowly trickle down, growing cold with the ground. Idolatry of the headstone. Only in death are we complete. Close the book.
Track Name: Promise Of Scavengers
Trudge the trail. No end in sight, just dust upon dust. Picked bones guide your way. The dried remains of those who failed. Convex bloat of aimless pack animals long since without masters. You can't fail. You'll get it first to share at your own discretion. Along the way a straggler begs through cracked lips. Plunder all provisions and leave him with nothing but the promise of scavengers.
Track Name: At A Loss For Words And Hope
We've got a ways to go. Just weeks ago a witch was burned at the stake. Or beheaded, who can keep track? I'm at a loss for words and hope. But it was in a third world country, not somewhere normal. Not in the U.S. of A, where people picket funerals. Please tell me something decent, Mr. TV reporter. I cannot fucking take it any fucking longer. At a loss. The crowd was too big to fend off. Sawing through neck to expel evil. Belief in magic is quicksand. Hold your breath. We are sinking.
Track Name: End Times
It's been the end times since the start. There have always been men perched on high spewing tales of our demise. Certified through fiction. Whether flood or flame, the son or the stars, we've grown up obsessed with our species departure. To keep you scared. To keep you focused on leaving. To keep you buying what they're selling. Walk a mile in the shoes of the doomsday picketer and see if you find your destination. The fool's path is weathered. We're walking in circles.
Track Name: Disabler
You fell in and out of consciousness as half sentences dribbled from your lips. I turned a blind eye pathetically. So self righteous, as if to say I could cast a stone. Guilty as charged. Rickety bridges burn faster. We’ve been pulling planks for years. There is a special hell called grief. Wallowing through what if’s and should haves. What was our last conversation? What more could I have done? To extend a hand. To sever. Once guilt dissipates it is clear you can only do and blame so much.
Track Name: Hang Your Head At Half Mast
The money was grown on the backs of humans deemed lesser. Thus was how our fathers founded freedom. In currency we trust. I’ve spent and I’ve saved, I’ve begged and I’ve borrowed. In trust I found nothing. Hidden in vague back alley dealings, we are whored out by suits who speak of nothing but freedom. With fire in their eyes, and their fingers crossed, they are selling us wholesale. Oh say can you see? I say I’ve seen enough. With shards of ourselves wielded as weapons, we must dig our way out. Roast feasts over flags and smoke illicit drugs from the bones of the rich and blunts rolled in large bills. Plant the money into the soil and grow as humans.
Track Name: Salvage
I only know one path to walk, so I avoid the puddles as the light hits them. But they’re all I see. Scrape the crud from my soaked boots. What am I worth? To salvage yourself you must amputate the bad limb. Cut out the cancer. Suck out the venom. Compromise is to concede and consecration is for captives.