Old Haunts

by CZAR

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08:53
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05:25
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05:41
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03:42
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Released 11/23/11

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released November 23, 2011

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CZAR Tacoma, Washington

Progressive noise metal band from Tacoma, WA.


Watch our music video for "Never Shoot the Pilot" at:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=xEnVdkrUNJ8

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Track Name: Elwood
Elwood

Holding the devil’s hand won’t keep you from being burned and pissing into (wet) concrete won’t set my disdain into stone
Bring forth the parade of cowards and turncoats.
Each one wearing the hide of the one to their left
Scavengers alike; vultures waiting at my knees for table scraps, while cooing like infants
There’s acid in everything I say, and Steel plate mail around my heart to keep the lone wolves at bay.
Be trusting, just remember those close enough to trust, are close enough to stick a knife in your back.
Every time I try to speak, even if it’s to make peace, I find fists shoved down my throat ripping away at my livelihood.
Every time I try to relate, I ask for a Capricorn, I get her head on a plate.
I don't mean to be such a cutthroat, but in my experience a friend for a while becomes a villain with a smile
Sometimes there’s just no going back; You bed down with vipers, you get yourself... dead?
I’m setting fire to every bridge, just to see who burns.
I've got soo many fingers digging in my skin, like an army of fire ants. You can pull and you can pry, but you just can't dislocate my spine.
the moment you think I'm in the palm of your hand I become a sliver in your wrist.
Bring forth the parade of lapdogs of cowards; Marionettes with knives for fists.
Ragdolls fill the city streets, loosening hems to corrupt a world view
You can’t see every puppet’s strings, but you can always cut your ties.
so cut.
The six in blade of trust left me embittered, not broken.
With bloody wrists, broken hearts, and nothing left to bleed, friendship crumbles, love falls on crippled wings and trust is the knife in my back.
Track Name: Never Shoot the Pilot
Never Shoot the Pilot

(You were always) counting backwards from never.
So rigid, but claiming freedom
So uninformed, but boasting of your intelligence
So frigid, with a playful look in your eye
You want to inspire, but fail to amaze.
Chewing iron doesn’t make you half or whole a man
Fingers reaching, gloves stretching, but not feeling
(The) time has come to spit (out) the cancer we’ve been hiding in our cheeks.
That, or call our bluffs.
We’ll take our turns: to swallow... or to choke.
Track Name: Le Tenia
Le Tenia

Another shadow of a night I wish my memory could collapse upon completely.
Hopeless horror lived out simultaneously, in the moment and the third person
I just can’t take it back and nothing said can satiate this dread.
The trouble is my foolishness and depravity know no bounds
I might as well be shaking hands with the hangman or bluffing my way to the guillotine.
I’m not flirting with disaster; I’ve got my tongue down her throat
It’s easy to say, “No regrets” when you haven’t lost everything you have in a moment of indiscretion and mindless violence.
I have regrets, but there’s no sense in righting wrongs with wishing bones, and vengeance is an empty gesture when you bash the wrong man’s brains in.
Time destroys everything.
The most tragic thing about life is that it does go on. The most beautiful thing about life is that it does go on.
So this... this is regret.
How can I ever make amends if you’re dead lying on a stretcher?
How can I amount to that of a man if I’m just another tapeworm?
Track Name: Amends
Amends

Any act of brilliance is not conceived for the sake of the mother’s eyes.
Holed up in a mausoleum of Prozac and porcelain, envying in all of your fear, those on the prowl
Turn off those neon signs that scream, “baren womb” and “empty nest.”
They don’t guide our ships home.
You’ll never quite be sure of the company that we keep, when we dance naked in the streets
Our midnight laughter will fall deaf on your ears
We’ve just grown tired of the taste of your tears
When I was a young man, my father said to me, “an honest man has nothing to fear” so I try not to look so afraid.
It’s not that I’m a liar; I just can’t tell the truth.
Conscience won’t stop me on a dime
(You’re ripe with convictions, but loose with your morals)
Try not to look afraid
This isn’t a cry of a confession
That we’re the damned or the demented (forgiven)
This is an oath, this is an oath.
We stand committed to never let life get in the way of living.
This is a call to arms for those who feel it in their bones.
(If in my 90th year I acknowledge that I am still a child
In the eyes of the universe, I will be forgiven for any and all foolishness.)
Track Name: Clay Pigeon
Clay Pigeon

That dangerous spring wind is near.
I feel the change in every gust that makes the geese under my skin stand at attention.
This year, I welcome the return.
Oh to be that fuel injected suicide machine.
WITHOUT that hell-bent death wish and self destructive disease
Taking flight with passions, and aiming for the sun
No, my wings won’t melt this time,
I used a lot more wax.
Taking everything else around me down a notch didn’t exactly build a staircase of heads to the heavens (and now) I’m on fire!
Nietzsche, There was nothing left to burn.
Am I still the ghost that evades your lips upon a whisper or a sigh?
Am I the ghost?
The world could be on the tips of our tongues as long as we can keep ourselves untied.
Cigarettes may be coffin nails, and I NEED to swear off that old oath that I’ll follow my impulses in an early grave.
Eradicate the pessimist, and enough of the ideology of paranoia
I’ll pay penance and pray to the gods of lunacy to grant my paper crane safe venture down the great bourbon river.
Track Name: Sluts for Satan
Sluts for Satan

Do you suppose you’d know the face of your killer if you looked her dead in the eyes?
Would you see that same cold empty that chills you at night?
Lying in wait like a praying mantis with its eyes on a horsefly
Who knew you were the bitch in heat?
We’re not lonely; just hungry.
I won’t fall into your arms tonight, but for your legs...
I might make an exception.
I saw the devil I despise and
I told the devil sweet lies and
I looked the devil in the eyes when
I grabbed the devil by the thighs and
I heard the devil fake a sigh and
I handed the devil my demise when
I said, “Honey I’m not a sexist or a chauvinist, I just wanna get you naked and kiss. So show me your tenderest flesh, and I’ll show you something better than bliss. Like this...”
The devil is a woman, but she is more of a man than I.
A sea of strangers’ hands carries me to the Promised Land.
Baptized by desire and vice, longing to capsize and be buried in bodies.
Hall and Oats’ “Man Eater” warned us about the sharks in the water, but no one ever told us about the ones that kept sharks in their garters
1000 fake phone numbers, casual brush offs, found love letters from youthful love affairs, being caught red handed with skin in hand and sheets on the bed
Tom cruise had it all wrong. She’ll always have you at “goodbye.”
But a handful of sweat and memory is better than learning to resent a lover
Like the ongoing delusions of adding metaphor to color
Blue is for secrets
Blue is for heartache
Blue is for the moon
Blue is for unfulfilled lust.
“Everyone has his or her own methods of trying to escape their own private unhappiness and each one of us, to that end, coaxes some ingenious method from the circumstances. Blessed is he who contents himself with whorehouses.”
...but she’ll always be more of a man than I...
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a whimper, but with a gangbang.