13 songs by sober becky

by sober becky

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1.
02:17
2.
03:04
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
02:39
9.
04:01
10.
03:18
11.
12.
13.

credits

released January 1, 2009

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sober becky Prince George, British Columbia

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Track Name: Cat's Cradle
The world ends when a man moves his finger and all is destroyed by the action of a distant trigger. We all knew it was coming, so an orgy was held and everyone came. Weapons and deities were the children of our species, both tools created by desperate, power-hungry men who knew enough about everyone near them and not anything about those in the distance. We never felt safer than with the bomb and the bible on our side, until the unavoided, fateful day that the whole fucking world fried. The president of the world, who lives in the USA, had to say, “Okay, if you do it son, on judgement day”. So jesus christ never came, despite all his fame...he was just a famous name. rastafari and allah are just as fucking lame. One day it was realized, the lies must be finalized, before the wool fell from our eyes and exposed the ancient bullshit in a prophecy disguise. The men who ruled the world agreed to an MAD because they all could see that they couldn’t fix it up with all their money.
Track Name: Reality
An invisible man on a public bus is a monotone reflection of the rest of us. not a stutter or a skip in life’s rotation, changing shoes at the next bus station. hey you-you live in a box, me too (but mine is nicer because I am richer than you) I stare through my window, only to see blinding neon lights burning holes in me, screaming: buy our cars! buy our shoes! buy our fucking TVs! (made in toxic factories by the underpaid chinese...) reality, reality. all we do is shit and eat and work and sleep and wake each day to wait and waste and pass the time away. replicate or just to screw, well....what else is there to do? the cops show up (to shut us up) these walls are too thin, I can hear the neighbours pissing in this complex that I live in. three bums around the rubbish bin “hey! what kind of shit have you got yourselves into?” it sure looks a lot like alcoholism. one two three pound the listerine. pass it in a circle like a joint or a minute hand. three two one pound it like it’s rum swallowed by a pirate in the Caribbean sun. an invisible man is clutching a needle, about to stuff his veins with something evil, while another one staggers down the side of the street with a puddle of puke between his feet we’ve got hills here, topped with tarps and traffic lights. we’ve got bullets and machetes in the middle of the night. drive your cars! get new shoes! drink our fucking coffee! we don’t really care about your kids, we just trade scams for money.
Track Name: Problems Reborn
Today is a window washing day, a good day I think to stay. Or to go away and look for the sunshine but its been blocked behind human progress so now they will build a factory to synthetically supply us all with happy. But I’d rather sit in this sink and soak a while and think about missing out. Today is a day to sweep the street and puke on a stranger’s feet, then go to sleep. To dream about some missing teeth and only missing last week. Well I don’t miss anything but last week and the last time I laughed at an irony that wasn’t mine. But I’d rather sit on these bricks and maybe forget about missing out. And maybe figure out the problems reborn now that I’m bored, and whether or not I can afford to cling to the familiarity of having something wrong with me. And maybe later we’ll wash away the concluding stain of yesterday. Not that anything was really wrong with last night. Not that anything was really right or any different than tonight.
Track Name: Samurai Style
Read a book about a man canning crabs on a ship full of other disillusioned communists achieving reform through resist. Receiving a victory far too short lived. The ship sailed on across the sea. Long kill the Company! ive got a perfect chat room identity but i spend too much time staring blankly at the screen, were not really who we pretend to be but if im not pretending than im not really me. Were trading progress for humanity. turning the human into a machine. Another sacrifice in the name of the company, but i can’t find happiness in a vending machine. Konnichiwa kanoshi85. Critically diagnosed with being alive. We could end our misery. Together and somewhat honourably. ,meet me at the subway station to end our frustration there’s no turning back when you’re splattered on the train and half still stuck on the track. Shinto offers no salvation in the end, fat Buddha’s sticky palms are always outstretched for my yen. So faith is a dead end, where can one turn to instead? Now im tired and would rather be dead. Well i could throw myself from a window that scrapes the sky and shrug my shoulders stiff as im not trying to fly. They’ll quarantine the city block scrape me off of the sidewalk like chewing gum. Or is it easier to just get a gun?
Track Name: Grob's Attack
Desperation spawned congregation and suicide negotiation. Dry eyes wait to blink or see passed a mind fixed on a memory. Does anyone have a plan, a place, an aspiration? Cause im sick of waiting on pawn manipulation. Does anyone have a loaded gun? Im sick of sinking and thinking it wont end and im stuck. Run before the cold could catch up. Passed a church that reeks of summer time short cuts and a house that smells of deader bodies than ever. Well im still left alone. Will i still be a miserable fuck when ive grown old?
Track Name: Song to Forget
august i drank coffee black, despite the bitter taste, solely for the purpose of keeping myself awake. i wouldn’t want to waste the night sleeping...some things could be too great to sacrifice for dreaming. The other day I got so stoned I couldn’t see i have put myself behind a wall of apathy and misery an obstruction to progress that is hard to pass when you’re slogging through these days like mud, stuck in the past. so I’ll try another time to search for what I never find at the bottom of another empty bottle of wine. I’m holding happiness in a paper bag (again).its just the same old wasted way to waste away another weekend. another one to forget. i’d give you the moon on a silver string, that’s a reflection of the happiness we tend to get from owning things, it’s not a lunar happiness device, it’s a home and the property rights belong to cheese, a man and a rabbit pounding rice. The other day I got so stoned I couldn’t see i have put myself behind a wall of apathy and misery an obstruction to progress that is hard to pass when you’re slogging through these days like mud, stuck in the past. so I’ll try another time to search for what I never find at the bottom of another empty bottle of wine. I’m holding happiness in a paper bag (again).its just the same old wasted way to waste away another weekend. Will it be one of those nights ending with uncommitted kisses that taste like cigarettes? Another one to forget. a dream came alive. then it died. it exploded. only a memory survived. and you’d be wise, to put aside, any effort to revive it.
Track Name: Editing my Expectations
Today I sucked my mood out from a medicated tube. And I could be abusing it....but there is too much confusing shit to cope, I’d rather choke on my tongue now that it is numb. Today was rearranged by an unexpected change of direction and destination, sending me back to the station to contemplate what makes me someone so fucking dumb. Sitting together on the stairs, he said to me, “The older I get, the less I seem to care....but it’s great to see kids throwing bottles at police in the streets. Five years ago that was me....” and I had to agree. Its great! But do they really have a cause? I mean aren’t half of them dependant on the long arm of the law they’re trying to break? Today expectations made were put aside and then replaced by a realized reality of mutual mediocrity and the inability for me to conquer me. Sitting together on the stairs, he said to me, “The older I get, the less I seem to care....but its great to see kids throwing bottles at police in the streets. Five years ago that was me....” and I had to agree. The older I get the less I care. The older I get the less I care. The older I get the less there is. But I’m aware that today I have friends who I could forget I ever knew until I nostalgically review the pictures to which they will be reduced to. Apparently everything is temporary. Why try to save what time can fade?
Track Name: Shapes
is the best way to spend a day? To watch a clocks aging face and wait? I went to the middle of the bridge today and looked both ways I think I’ll wait until summer comes because it came last year out of nothing and now nothing much is here. So I thought back to jumping six months ago, when below had more of a reason to reach. Now there is only snow and shit piled on the beach like plans that never fit And so I thought about jumping now and looking down to see a dead ended inquiry: would I sink or float or would I freeze and face down drift just like a dead leaf to go on and feed dogs somewhere downstream? Give me a map but tomorrow ill still be lost, wondering what is the cost of half a year (or just one day) gone to waste. Bored. Or just defined by a clock face? What’s the best way to start a day? To wear a face that doesn’t fit and wait? To change shape
Track Name: Waking Up
This morning looked like yesterday, waking up seemed a mistake. Were not led by a leader just a replacement for that broken face. That is balanced between starched shoulders, shrugging only as they get older beneath the weight of holding all that he can steal or take. fighting wars with “good intentions”, providing we "forget" to mention the pride and greed that still succeed to dominate and instigate hate. I think my life is fake. I’ve substituted reality with text messages and computer screens and no one wants to be with me, because I’m retarded socially In school I can’t sit still Oh fuck I forgot to take my pill today So I will and everything will fall in line, Ill fall in line. This morning was eternity, the cement walls surrounding me only bounce off the conversations between my personalities So Im fighting with the posilac scene and the escalating price of rice and the exchange of oil and empire for (human/ non human) lives. And why the dollar is fed by the arms race of a war which was supposedly prompted in the first place by threats to security, well what constitutes a victory, against an abstract enemy? so if your home grown war supplies goes to terrorists on both sides aren’t you just playing with yourselves…and whose playing with me? where did I get this new suspicion for the diagnosis of our conditions…? But the pharmaceutical conscription man is telling me it’s time to refill my prescription. This morning was eternity, so are these ads just selling jeans or images of who I should be and measures that I want to take, subliminally? I’m questioning what I just read, they must be fucking with my head or did I just forget to take my meds? So I will, and think of something else instead.
Track Name: People Suck
Im a rather typical north-americanese im not concerned with anything thats not concerning me and i like to shop for mass produced shit made by enslaved people for free people like me. the free like to imprison themselves in heated houses with lots of shelves to store all of our shit and we’ve got a lot of it. We’ve got a moving picture box we never turn off. Im a rather typical ruthless human being im not concerned with anything not concerning me and we’ve turned a farm into a factory. We’ll torture an animal till he’s fat enough to eat then take his mechanically separated meat and throw it in a can or an oven or a frying pan. You could end up in the oven as a person too, but only if you are a gypsy or a faggot or a jew. Its fucked up but its true im a rather typical ruthless human being not concerned with anything not concerning me and a person who kills must face electrocution cause apparently execution is society’s best solution. Although an eye for an eye will just succeed to make us all blind a state funded camera lens sees for me so i don’t fuckin mind. Im a rather typical mass consuming machine not concerned with anything not concerning me and i don’t have to think as my TV does that for me. But i keep my conscience at bay cause once a year i send away a shoebox full of lollipops. And ill throw in a picture of me so that the starving child can see “god-granted” prosperity. Well can you draw a parallel between our swollen bellies? Im a rather typical north americanese not concerned with anything not concerning me and i don’t have to think cause my TV does that for me. Well all of this prosperity is just a product of greed.
Track Name: Ten New Tshirts
Everything i bought at wal-mart fell apart. its almost as if this shit was made to break. home of the disposable microwave. filling up all the empty landfill space. 10 new t shirts for me 10 cents to the factory worker minimum wage for the employee 10 new t shirts for me. They’ll stock it if its made cheap, so to the sweatshops with your companies. Shit shipped from overseas. Quantity beats quality. 10 new t shirts for me 10 cents to the factory worker minimum wage for the employee 10 new t shirts for me. Ma and pas store was there before. Went bankrupt when wal-mart moved next door. No one would shop there anymore. Lacked the face of this week’s corporate whore. 10 new t shirts for me 10 cents to the factory worker minimum wage for the employee 10 new t shirts for me. You’ve got the same t-shirt as me fitting in with homogenized society a wal-mart for every city right next to starbucks and old navy. 10 new t shirts for me 10 cents to the factory worker minimum wage for the employee 10 new t shirts for me.
Track Name: People Still Suck
I can’t recognize respectfully the function of the ivory, decoratively displayed next to a rain forest wood frame surrounding khaki shorts, and an elephant corpse, and the smirk of one who clearly supports this ego injection delivery, proof of what? Perceived superiority? Wealth? Ability? Or just unnecessary animal cruelty...Now I’m stuck thinking, “why bother?”, asking a species with no compassion to offer to re-evaluate their priorities while viewing animals as trophies and assuming their entitlement to degrading forms of entertainment. The decapitated head of another primate is stuffed and mounted on display while his hand holds an ashtray. His body lies in the jungle still, while his captured child is falling fatally ill in a zoo, held captive to be viewed by someone who each time he gazes into her eyes, falls strategically blind to the events chronologically behind the opportunity to find her here. Now I’m stuck thinking, “why bother?”, asking a species with no compassion to offer to re-evaluate their priorities, who the fuck said animals were are commodities? Just blank disposable unfeeling bodies? Well it wasn’t me and I wholeheartedly must disagree.From what I see, the way one treats another being reflects their true personality. So what the fuck does organized cruelty suggest about humans collectively? I think it means that the system we depend upon is fucking wrong.
Track Name: Us and them (plus super special live old version of sars)
we are conceived and born incurably diseased with inherited inequalities. ancestors perched on our backs, crucified to planks of the past. with puppet limbs and assigned masks. subconsciously inclined to comply with man-made lines, we feel safest when we are defined. Seek comfort in definition; wear uniforms for recognition of our place and position. raised on a steady diet of lies, deceived and taught to generalize. told who is right and what is civilized. well civil thrives on genocide and how well it is justified following failed attempts to hide. this land is yours, or is it mine, we need the law to draw a line. to define and to separate our differences from what is the same so we can blame and hate and hide behind fences and border lines. reducing THEM to enemies with collectivized identities. we need ignorance to comprehend the division of us and them. truth is a casualty of war, the one that we tend to ignore and substitute pride for. pride for lines drawn by simple men, holding power, holding pens. perspectives gained through a narrow looking lens. well, nationalism is akin to racism and youre fucking stupid if your one of them protecting the familiar while fearing all that isn’t.