by Möbius Strip

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You'll never scare us into silence despite your prisons and your violence. You'll never scare us into silence; we will give voice to every grievance. Uncapped corporate campaign contributions cleared by the Constitution extract targeted muzzle orders tailor-made for their supporters. If this is the hand we've been dealt, we'd best amputate. With free speech dead and buried, the agricrats, humbled and harried, see their plight compounded: protest just moves underground. You'll never scare us into silence—we won't shut up—despite your prisons and your violence. We won't back down. You'll never scare us into silence—we won't shut up—we will give voice to every grievance.
Sixty-Seven 02:47
Sixty-seven inches squared. Cage so barren, life's impaired. Four hundred million times per year: caged, crowded, caught between the gears of the machine. This is routine, all in the name of profit. It's senseless, relentless; it’s endless misery. The bottom line is costing lives. This appetite's obscene. A life spent in torment; a killer economy. Envision a prison. Bodies: commodities. Brothers smothered for commerce; it’s perverse. A foundation built on egg shells—a time bomb is ticking—can't bear the weight of the public eye. The charges are sticking. We can send this monster back to hell—this market's our target—just interrupt the demand or supply.
Battery Cage 01:21
This cage is no page out of H.P. Lovecraft. These men throw hens while their managers laugh. If you fight, you might live for two whole years in a pit of shit that burns your eyes and your ears. Appetite can't justify ten billion dead. Brothers smothered as they exit the shell. The rest oppressed in this fetid hell. No! I shriek, debeaked with a red-hot knife. No! Savor (the) flavor for which they took my life. Appetite can't justify ten billion dead.
Frontera 01:13
Frontera. Boundaries we define. Cerrada. Frontera. Along them we align. Cerrada. Frontera. Separate by design. Mantengo mis raíces, hijo de dos países. Mantengo mis raíces. Fear—frontera—your neighbor. Fear is what keeps us apart. Frontera.
Clean Veins 02:02
Drink, toke, shoot, smoke. I don't wanna be a clone. Drink, toke, shoot, smoke. I'll get by on my own. Clean veins, clear brains. Drink, toke, shoot, smoke. Leave— Drink, toke, shoot, smoke. Leave me alone. I followed the crooked footsteps. They go nowhere. Why follow the crooked footsteps when I’ve got clean veins, clear brains? The pressure's high and so are all your friends. If you stay strong, you'll find that you belong with the out-of-step, the exed-out hands—a different crew where it's enough for you to be you.
Safe 03:34
(A) young girl emerges from the thick maze of leaves of branches. This doorstep looks familiar. She knocks, a stranger answers. She says she's on vacation. Can he help her find her family? He makes sure no one's watching, takes her by the wrist, and then he— It's a secret buried deep, like an arrow in your side. Unattended, the toxins left to seep; the infection's multiplied. Don't shrink from my touch. He can't hurt you any more. Don't shrink from my touch. This is a safe place. Don't let it become a lifelong bout; mind and body split in two. How am I to pull the arrow out if you won't let me touch you? Don't shrink from my touch. He can't hurt you any more. No, don't shrink from my touch. This is a safe place. You're safe right here.


Recorded April 2011 at Inner Ear Studios with Don Zientara
Mastered by T.J. Lipple


released October 2, 2011

All songs by Möbius Strip

Shane Carwile: drums, voices
Mark Kennedy: guitar, voices
Pitt Stains: bass, voices, artwork

Left Out Records LO2




Möbius Strip Washington, D.C.

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