In The Sweaty Grip Of The Moron

by Faultfinder

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released January 19, 2017

all songs by faultfinder
recorded by mike tuley a long time ago in the black box with overdubs and mix by mungo wetteroth later on
logo printed on tape by olivia gibb
other art by someone in the band




Faultfinder Kansas City, Missouri

Faultfinder is Joe, Ben, Don and Mookie.
All reside in Kansas City, Missouri.

Thanks: Hearst Lee

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Track Name: Active Denial System
we know where you are, bow your head, swallow your pride
we are the speaking statue, we have the whip in hand
consider this a gentle reminder that we'll torture the language
so we can torture you - take your medicine
you're our de facto demographic - the unaware - and that includes nearly everyone so who'd be left to care?
no, no you can not (the mantra)
no, no you can not (repeat until it sinks in)
every new concession fortifies the walls between the ones with the guns and the ones with nothing at all
we can make your skin boil to make you confess
and when you stop saying no we'll take that as a yes
we'll shove it down your throat until your will is gone
and overhead our power drones on and on and on and on
we'll kill you in your fucking bedroom if you step out of line
in the fields of state control it's harvesting time
watch your step
Track Name: Blind Mathematicians
nothing says i love you like a rifle to the head
a bradley fighting vehicle to render the discussion dead
and what's a better excuse for a conscience laid to rest
than a spoon fed ideology that brands itself the noble best?
we're led to war by blind mathematicians
their sober numbers beat us into submission
led to the store by blind mathematicians
taught what to want through paid admonitions
the air on city buses breeds a disease of despair
because the language of coercion is the language spoken everywhere
and there's a kind of monied poverty that leaves no room to breathe
producing glowing screens inside your home that beg you to check in and never leave
Track Name: Cycle Of Insects
why try? why bother? you can't win, you won't win.
see the roaches crawling out of the drywall
you can't win, you won't win.
cycle of insects
stab swiftly in a circle of bastards, you never know which one will get you first
just as surely as you bow to your masters, you can't win, you won't win
place your hands around your neck - apply pressure - twist and shout
flags are blocking out the sun - defy every one
they're just rap sheets - banners of defeat
punk band writes song
punk band records song
god farts
the world keeps turning
Track Name: Suicide Sentence
number's up I'm gonna die
I haven't lived my life
but I sign the dotted line
line up for life, lined up to die
they've got you clapped in chrome because they didn't buy your alibi
it only gets worse - you know what i mean?
there's no negotiating they've cast you in their scene
got it bad
so bad got the needle in my hand
but I'm too young to die
sentenced to suicide
you just can't take my life
sentenced to suicide
didn't send me a gun, didn't send me a knife
sentenced to suicide
with a loaded syringe like the reaper's scythe,
I sign the dotted line

I understand.
Track Name: Happiness
it doesn't taste like you thought it would
how's that make you feel?
a burred yoke placed on your shoulders? a vigil for your ideals?
and the shit that we swallowed is coming back up
still the best you can offer me is another loving cup
sly fingers kneading your flesh is all you want
through all the social contortions in all the shitty bars
and all your faulty ambition
we can't see who you are
i say you're only as good as the words you understand
and you don't understand a word
sly fingers kneading your flesh is all you want
what do you get for the person who thinks that they have everything?
and as we're wasting away while growing ever more fat
it's the bait that we ate that justifies our state
contagions slip through the cracks
Track Name: Peace Guns/Sweating In Private
past lives - stymied - white rats - running up the flagpole
sutured - sisters - peace guns - pointed at their foreheads now
bath salt - junkies - sapped up - red polluter meth train
forked tongues - sliced eyes - they drink - venom of the god snakes now
ready to fly

you think love comes from a bottle and having someone to pray for you
i'm begging you to pray for me for what i choose to do
can't keep the bile down
my body makes so much fluid - gulping pedialite just so i can do it
ipecac, thumb tacks and cum
turpentine, bitters, limes and rum
the stains won't wash out