Lost Lands- Visible Fissures

by Lost Lands

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Split between Vitriol Records (VIT036) and Man In Decline Records. Physical 7"s coming soon


released September 1, 2013

Shay- Guitar
Bruce- Bass
Eagle- Drums
Justin- vocals




Vitriol Records Los Angeles

Write what you want to read, play what you want to hear.

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Track Name: Unreliability
Siphoned through the filter
Of acceptable analogy
Through the oversimplified
Romance and theology
With no gradients
Allows a pitiful acquiescence
To a plot A sanitized narrative
A nebulous ideal, artifice
Of way the people never lived
Why bother
Standing on the shoulders of giants
When it’s easier to fucking crawl
Why think, why live
When it’s easier to just exist
Track Name: Visible Fissures
what’s keeping everyone
from responding in kind
beaten to death in a parking lot
or lifeless on a train
in a plainly mercantilist trade
where your loss is steadfastly their gain
if you’ve got a bone to pick
if you have any complaints
you’ll have a comfortable spot
to sit and wait
if you have a larger agenda to serve
to walk in your own town
refusing to defer
head up, undeterred
there’s a grave with no name on it
there’s a grave with your name on it
in a cemetery city
where the checks and balances insure
that the fraternal brotherhood
of the assholes you grew up with
with a penchant for power
and the absurd
will continue to operate with impunity
Track Name: Uncanny Valley
the ebb and flow
of endless flat desire for ease
dispense with labor
handcraft, need
the apex
a clinical likeness
a plastic quality
divorced from the chest cavity
that breathes and sleeps and sustains
the nadir
the dark matters of faculty
the deepest trench of
a valley floor
where the ships
of being are renewed
piece by piece
how long will it be
the fear stems
and grows
and blooms
from the lump in the throat
the drop in the gut

a clean self image
from a more perfect reflection
of us
Track Name: Poor Maps
I’ve been a traitor
I’ve ceded defeat
the force of ego smashed underfoot
and I’ve been weak
I’ve been some places
I can barely stand
On a stretch of bad road so poorly planned
Even the worst maps just reprimand
Your false sense of direction
That patina of suffering
And trifecta of disconnection
Man is tormented by no greater anxiety
Than to find someone quickly
To hand over the gift of autonomy
And without this stable conception
He would not consent to go on living
And would rather destroy himself
Than stay on earth
Though he has bread in abundance

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