by Coke Bust

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The record was recorded on 2-inch tape, analog style with Kevin. This was the band's third time recording with Kevin, so he knew exactly what we were going for and what the mentality was, etc. He really did a great job of making a noisy, wild, warm sounding record. We're very happy with how this one came out and how the record sounds sequenced, after mastering. After the instrument section laid down the tracks, Nick went in a few weeks later and did all of his vocals in two days. James and Chris both did backup vocals on this record.

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released November 24, 2013

Nicktape - Vocals
James Willett - Guitar
Jubert - Bass
Chris Moore - Drums



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Coke Bust Washington D.C., D.C.

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Track Name: Iron Spiral
A complex with no opposition and zero resistance. The regressively funded war profiteers, the soldiers of fortune, and the drone volunteers. Media soap operas and congress entertainment. A fast-track to war with nothing to stop it. Down the iron spiral, mutual collaboration. Down the iron spiral, military opportunist operation. As we accelerate down the axis, the infrastructure is in place and the mercenary pawns are violently engaged. Passing the hat, funding the game. An investment in power and nothing will change. We travel down the iron spiral.
Track Name: Neutralized
Locked out, looking in, living on the other side. Can't sleep, can't conversate, can't sit still, can't relate. The tension builds and I need my release. I have to be drugged, I want to be free. I need to be restrained, I need to be neutralized. I need to be acclimated in order to survive. Trapped in, looking out, contemplating suicide. A slave to myself, a slave to society, a pawn of a man, a slave to my mind. The tension builds and I need my release. I have to be drugged, I want to be free. I need to be restrained, I need to be neutralized. I have to be acclimated in order to survive. I need to be restrained, I need to be neutralized.
Track Name: Identity Destruction
Swigging and stumbling, you fall right in line. You're told what to like, you're told what to buy, you obey their orders and never ask why. An industry of poverty targeted at you. The sexual violence and domestic abuse. Your bullshit subculture is a key demographic. Numbing your conscience is all you can do. A threat to nothing, you fall right in line. How does it feel to drive in the middle of the road? Your rebellion is complacency and you are the status quo. Your bullshit subculture is a key demographic. The only difference is your fucking clothes. You're safe. Identity fucking destruction.
Track Name: Sent in Circles
Attached to their unattainable ideas and standards. You're force fed their shit and you feel like a failure. The worse that you feel, the more that they profit. Sent in circles, we don't know how to stop it. Exploit your insecurity, you're left with nothing. Sent in circles, you're left with nothing. We internalize their standards and make them our own. We do their job for them and work down to the bone. In the media, in the schoolyard, in the family at the table. Sent in circles and you're left with nothing. Refuse their standards, we're sent in fucking circles. Reject their standards, we can't keep doing this. Refuse their standards, we need a fucking change. Refuse.
Track Name: Innocence Complex
Among the mammoths the blood is brokered and dealt, leveraged on lives and put up for sale. You’re a dollar in the bank that never got spent. Your conscience is clean and you’re totally content. Signing the line. Smearing the blood. I'm a liar, I'm a thief, I’m ashamed of my crimes. You're right, I’m responsible for killing my own kind. My excuse is my ignorance, my personal gain. I pull the trigger and I take the blame. You sign the line but blood is on my fucking hands.
Track Name: Red Line
Ready to die, content with death. Facing the fence with a gun to my head. Reflecting on my life, making my peace and looking back. Murdered in Brookland, find my body on red line tracks. Barking his orders with the heat of his gun. Wishing he'd do it, I need a new plan. About to settle and compromise with the chips of my life. I’ll forge my own path, make my own rules and keep my own time.
Track Name: Confined
Break out, free myself – confined. Concrete rat maze – got to break out. Societal vice grip – confined. Sent down the river and thrown in the tide. Gasping for air, struggling to survive. Confined to your destiny written in stone. A good, honest man left out to die. Confined to the margins and between the lines. I want my page to be black, I want peace of mind. Take my cash, I'll take my time, take my corpse in a box, but they can't take me alive. Confined.
Track Name: Nothing to Offer
Meet you half way, explain my position. I can tell you all day, but you won't listen. I can't offer you peace, I can't offer you security. I can't make you happy, I can't give you stability. Manipulate me, lie to me, and catch me in your traps. I have nothing to offer, it's all not for me. You want me addicted, you want me to be dependent. You want me to say things even if I don't mean it. Nothing to offer. My life is mine, I won't give it away. I have nothing to offer and nothing to say.
Track Name: Stockholm Syndrome
We feel worthless and cheated, exploited and used. We're addicted to misery and love to get screwed. Opening our mouths and gargling their piss. Be grateful and thankful in a market like this. We've got nowhere else to turn. Numbing our problems, we black ourselves out. We celebrate our suffering, we're so fucking proud. Coughing and bleeding and blinded by debt. But we're proud of our country and we'll never forget. We've got nowhere else to turn. Our struggle, our fight, our fucking escape.