Artie Kaye 7"

by Rebuke

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released April 1, 2012




Rebuke Sweden

Hailing form Gothenburg, Sweden, Rebuke have been playing together since 2003, building up a strong European following thanks to their unshakeable work ethic; self-releasing their songs and touring non-stop. Singing about a mix of political or personal issues, Rebuke keep their lyrical subject matter smart enough to get you thinking, and catchy enough to sing along to! ... more

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Track Name: It Really Stinks In Here
Staring down the guy that's in front of me
You are really everything I never want to be

You insufferable cunt
You opinionated brat
It's hard to fathom that
You stand to live like that

But then I remember my promise cleared
I have to stop screaming at the mirror
Track Name: Black Screen, Eyes
The blistering cold pierces through her overcoat
In cobination with the letter she wrote
Chills her blood to ice, her watered eyes
Trace the lining of overcast skies

In denial!
Gather your hungry and poor
Single file!
Disavowed and shown the door
Here at the sunset gate
It's already to late

Out of the ashes and thrown in the dust
And in its subsidance she's forced to adjust
to accusations and questions she can't undestand
To face the expectations of unreasonable demand

"These allegations have absolutely nothing to do with me
bas on some ignorent assumption of cultural identity"

How dare you quantify the worth of a life
to an arbitrary scale set by territorial pride
Track Name: Bandname and URL Withheld
Every click is a dollar, evey dollar is a vote
I though you were supposed to promote the antidote
to corporate fascist news source conglomorates
and liberate the airwaves they dominate
I wonder with what rationale do you justify?
Is this subversive imagery all a lie?

Counteract capitalist dominance of media freeways
It's not such a sacrifice to shut down your myspace
Track Name: Operation Shitstorm
Let's bask in the glow of our aftermath
The inevitable end of our beaten path
I guess we always should have known
Because we understand as well as anything that
sand will never revert back to stone

We've tracked down this dead-end road
Worn our feet down to the bone
This barren wasteland is our home
As if there was anything worth to save
from this culture so reprobate
We've put up off digging the graves

I count down from threehundred and sixtyfive
Get interupted by the eradication of human life

Wading through a creek of shit
It's kind of hard not to step in it
We would sardonically admit
that getting accustomed to the smell
was time spent really fucking well
Best regards, the sentinel

Who could've known this day would come?
How about anyone?