The World is a Glorious Biomechanical Nightmare

by ubik.

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1.
05:40
2.
03:53
3.
4.
02:04
5.
03:54
6.

credits

released August 21, 2008

All songs written by ubik.
Recorded and Mixed by ubik.
Mastered by Steve Turnidge

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ubik. Seattle, Washington

ubik. is Seattle's premier psy-prog drift core outfit, and can rock, gloat, drift, glock, splift, and arrive.

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Track Name: !!!!!!
all the light that's in the world
couldn't let this shadow fade
there is no amount of joy
that could reason with this rage
i have self-inflicted wounds
carried out from underneath
and a world of unwanted truth
sitting just out of reach."

let go what you are holding
let breathe your aching palms
if hatred is disaster
then weightlessness is calm
i made a new beginning
by pushing toward the sun
and there i felt a warmth like everything was one

there was a time i fell as low as i could come,
but i made a new beginning, pushing toward the sun
there i felt it all
get free of right and wrong
forget your sorry song

i fear the day of the coming change
and you forget that we are the same

let go what you are holding
Track Name: disrepair
from scraps i was made
given life and battery
my heart was taken from a power drill's core
translucent soul tell me what is it for?

i set the pace for a modern world
then collapsed into obsolete
cannot compete with a broken machine
left for the hounds i am the scraps beneath the table
beg!
what should i fear?
i've got no blood to bleed
what should i fear?
no hungry mouth to feed

no remorse for the worn
has brought me to an end
there was a time when i pushed so hard
i was indestructible then
i set the pace for a modern world
then collapsed into obsolete
cannot compete with a broken machine
left for the hounds i am the scraps beneath the table
beg!

what should i fear?
i am becoming old
a dysfunction
(at least that's what i am told)

sympathy will do me no good!
i live with the tyranny of knowing i'm done!
i'm done! i'm done!
Track Name: seven feet under
don't you think
before your tongue
begins to wet
and ramble on?

you say: "America...
Profitable...
Nationalize...
Take it whole!"
this is my definition:
mutual strangulation

feed me this?
don’t you think i’d be
better off in a gutter
than to have the right to say:
we will crash!
we will burn!
there are tides
that will turn...

this is my definition:
single-file without a question!

no tomorrow: what a sight to foresee!
growing sorrow for the lives that we lead
don't forget this part:
"incinerate! dehumanize!"
we pull apart, we sacrifice

we will know we are wrong
long before we are gone

don’t you think
before your tongue
begins to wet and ramble on?
Track Name: glitch
the communication is flawed
when you don't know who to speak to
or even if you'd say it exactly how you feel,
you think it's better not to bother,
to ignore the memory
of all that was said once to be real

but i feel this
lifting from beneath me
i feel this
shaking at my standing

and i am so unsteady i feel like falling down
to the grasp that once had held me before i broke away
everyday is deeper in the ground
as i assure myself of what i can't be sure of

but i feel this
lifting from beneath me
yeah, i feel this
shaking at my standing,
breaking ground...
Track Name: the spangler
program!
control!
civilize!
take hold!
break free of hands!
sink deep! quicksand!

a punishment is brought upon you
as you are suffering from disease.
treatment is a place you fear,
a one-way ticket to existence on your knees,
a sleep that's without dreams,
extinction on your knees,
a sleep that's without dreams

blank walls stare back at a flea-bitten hand,
scratching at the walls as you reach for the land
it took a while for you to come to recognize just who I am

your life in command!
my life is in command!
our lives, out of our hands,
because we fear the quicksand

all is well is all is well is all is well is all is well is...

dead! Dead! Are you dead? Dead!
is there life left? Is your blood red! Shades of grey

there is no hope for you within the confines of state
a surface to destroy, disease will procreate
Track Name: external retraction
a man lays dead in a forest of black
a cross around his neck
a vulture on his back
picks the remains of a cold ideal
laid to rest
the death of a forgotten crutch
is the way in which he's blessed.

truth was found by accident
by a woman passing by
the sight of a sunken prophecy
brought her to the ground as she questioned
"why? and how? have we all gone mad?
spent my days holding jealousy,
too much war within my head."

hands fold into fists as a natural response
to years of opposition, and hatred at all cost
and violence begets violence,
within it dwells no god
as products of response we are the carrion
we feed on the destruction
of the parched and barren earth
we feed on the destruction of species
that evolutionarily will surpass us
lead ourselves into battle with ourselves
for a purpose that was never free

freedom is not synonymous with belief

we were never free