Gradually, Everything is Rotting

by Rebel Scum

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credits

released May 16, 2014

Recorded, Mixed, and Mastered by Paul Hundeby in Orlando, Florida

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all rights reserved

about

Rebel Scum Savannah, Georgia

sludge/powerviolence band
Half from Alabama
Half from Florida

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Track Name: Inheritance
I am the blood
I am the gun
I am the blood coursing through your sick veins
I am the gun pointed at your head
I am the blood
I am the gun
I am the blood coursing through your sick veins
I am the bullet through your fucking brain
Track Name: Heavy Heart
Wrap my heavy heart
Around your sweet neck
Let me bring you down with me
Give me everything

Give me shelter from the storm
Wrap me up and keep me warm
Track Name: Inflated Ego
My land in barren
Rest in solitude
Attack the stem
Leave me useless
Burden of nothing
Rationalizing indifference
Giving reason to dismal
An empty shell
Fill me, show me how to feel.

There is an irresistible minimum
An absolute nothing
An unattainable suffering
(of someone undeserving)
Track Name: Erase Me
I'm not the nihilist you are

Pray for the apocalypse
Drown your sorrows behind bloody lips
Pray for the apocalypse
Eat your words while they eat, shit
Track Name: Gang Culture
Minuscule problems
You will spread the anthills
Every world has a god
I don't need your family
Track Name: Absolutes Only Matter to Others
Uninvited Hands
Lead to unknown lands
Culture specific
Cleansing denial
Track Name: Nameless
I am nothing, if not worthless
So don't hold out your hand
I was only mean tot bite it off
Meant to cause pain

I walk out, calmly and alone
Face to face with the storm
And welcome so much more
As knees grow weaker
You won't have to bother

I have withered up
Return me to earth

I am nothing now
I have nothing left
Track Name: Trash Built High Will Soon Topple Over
I don't need your guiding light
I don't need your saddest prayers
Nothing allows constant might
I just want you to fucking care
Wolves are nothing without sheep
Lonely now, forever sleep

Lies upon lies
Climb your ashes to the sky
Castles built from sorrow
On the backs of slaves



(Everything you love. Will soon turn to dust)