more from
Epitaph

Beneath California

by Retox

/
  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $7 USD  or more

     

1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.

credits

released February 10, 2015

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Retox California

contact / help

Contact Retox

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: Die In Your Own Cathedral
At the end of history we let go of man’s memory, closed the garbage factory, cleaned the filthy sensory. I shook the dead hand of the past, haunted by the future forecast. When you look up at a star, know it’s dead and not too far from dead shit like common dreams, fits right in with common themes. Threw up, cleaned up, put on makeup, now you think you are all grown up? At the end of history there’s a new beginning. We burnt the crematory, right along with old glory. Laughed at pre-history and then wrote a new story.
Track Name: We Know Who's The Prick
The face of a Situationst walked on the no fly list, threw a brick at a dick politic. While a pre-dumb colonist signed up to get pissed, extinction kick made him lovesick. The last extinction will be a nice trick. Heard the birds stopped singing as a shtick. Some god forgives? Shall we nitpick? The post-dumb colonist clenched fists, slit wrists, sucked dick as a last gimmick. Song of a Situationst sung silent, screamed violent, revisionist knows the prick. Pig Bootlick dies from a matchstick. The last extinction will be a nice trick. Heard the birds stopped singing as a shtick. Go ahead and nitpick, so we know who’s the prick.
Track Name: The Savior, The Swear Word
The mayor’s atoms were just sitting there. They said human reasoning is better than prayer. All the children would swear, big data was unaware and the little data didn’t seem to care. Bad faith is so unfair, but common blasphemy swept through the air. While the adults went to daycare, the adults died in day care. Transhuman Trashman, the gazillionaire, sold shit to shitheads to use for bus fare. The town sits among the charming ruins there, nothing but extinction is left to spare. We could un-fuck the world’s wear and tear or die of comfort, jerk off to disrepair. Bad faith is so unfair, go ahead, you can swear.
Track Name: Let's Not Keep In Touch
It’s time to start old sweetheart, get a head start. State of the art, the weak part, oops… restart. Direct me from a laundry cart, call it abstract art. As wise as we think we are, we fall apart. Gotta lie and remain honest, or outsmart. Sucking on the lower body part for the most part. Boring body part bored in court, broke it’s natal chart. Just buy a new artificial atrium for the heart. Depression gets distracted by the fattest cells that need to eat. Beat the street meat and make it grow obsolete. Drag the cold feet to slurp up what we all excrete. Everyone fucks each other in their own back seat. It’s time to scrape by and watch boring crap on repeat…. Incomplete. Rewind and rewind till shit breaks apart. Wanna crawl under a dead animal’s under part? Cry till a sucker becomes a counterpart? I’ll just figure out a way to depart. Every empire gets fat and falls apart. So sorry my dying sweetheart, I know I have no need to take part. I’ll take myself right back to the start.
Track Name: Disappointing Grade
Spend the night, the meat has thawed. So suck the shit, birth more fraud. When the firing squad had me applaud, I knew I was too clever for god. Who’s still Christian? Stale bread for stale tradition. Superstition? Hire a bad magician. Bad condition? Go bald for recognition. Fire some more ammunition. Enter mission… double decomposition. Screw nutrition in missionary position. Politician. “Fuck work” with repetition. Rescue mission is just superstition. And so life began at erection. Where did you start? Awe, who cares for the most part? You can go fuck an imaginary body part. Looks like rotten meat in a stolen shopping cart. Now try to sort of push restart.
Track Name: The Inevitable End
When I was young I showed them who was the faggot. I messed around with boys, the jocks just jacked it. What was I again? What do you call it? Verdicts in, someone is full of shit. Who wants to throw a fit have a go at it. All the dads rubbed their faces in it. They forged a work permit, never needed to commit. The way you dress still means you ask for it? Because I swam in shit, every bit was legit. Let me hawk and spit, what else shall we omit? I heard all you need is nitroglycerin. Or maybe just some counterfeit medicine. Got depression, need some affection? Someone sucked without protection. Ladies and gentlemen, now tell me who’s the faggot? In memory of when I cared, none were spared. When I was young I showed them who was the faggot. I messed around with boys, the jocks just jacked it. Saggy balls were off by a long shot. Ugly animal even forgot what it was taught. It drowned in shit, the desired vacation spot. In memory of when I cared, animals were unprepared. Evolution will give us the sixth finger, paired And a dumb mind that will still stay impaired. In memory of when I cared back when we were all impaired.
Track Name: This Should Hurt A Little Bit
Who needs a virus? Or a missile crisis? Fill out plus sizes and shit reverse niceness. Hear more with tinnitus while ass sells bias. Bland diet, be quiet. Shit here, hope it will disappear. Hang myself and reappear? Nothing is sturdy here. Jesus came on leap year. I’ll die old, I’ll volunteer. Are we clear? With tinnitus I can hear a sore loser cheer. Shall I be insincere? Toilets diet, race riot.
Track Name: Death Will Change Your Life
All those who have died before me, forgot trustees, cleaned streets with parolees. They dragged everything into the sea, the filth and the debris, and hoped none would see. Preach on but first remove part of the speech. Walk with the rats and drag trash to the beach. Bloodhound caught a foul scent, on a short leash. Figure of speech is what rats only teach. All the dumb shit is just within our reach. Death will change life, it’s a constructive breach. Mop up the old crime scene, soak in bleach. Fluids will flow they are bound to leach. Sightsee one more dry sea, an old absentee nominee.
Track Name: Without Money, We'd All Be Rich
Some teachers skip class while you sit on your own ass. It’s relative atomic mass, and it smells like endless gas. My first day on the job is bound to be your last. O heard ass crack kills. Do you pay my bills? Want to know how to write a joke? Reference your skills. Suicide pills pack in landfills. Here’s how to write another joke, retirement thrills. And then god spoke? Done… Early stroke. Everything kills. Accumulate bills. Want to know how to write a joke? Be(lie)vable skills.
Track Name: You're Only A Crook If You Get Caught
I hear Money can’t buy love but it sure can buy a boat for you to sail next to it, now let’s clear that cut throat… A crook is someone who gets caught, so try to find that second thought. Sink in the sea of misfortune, a lower degree in the long run. It’s just spit in a weak handshake. The experts don’t know what’s a fake. Get and take and then still eat cake. The mistake can be the remake. A crook is someone who gets caught, finger the infected weak spot. A crook is someone who gets caught, so try to find that second thought.
Track Name: Wooden Nickels
Jacked up, sucked up, dried up, lucky fuck seems to rise on up. Thrown up, blown up, burnt up, immature power breaks on up. The best things in this life aren’t things. Gather garbage call it life’s winnings. Gear up for some bad luck, dying buck will live in a dump truck. Sign up for more good luck, stupid shit will always suck.
Track Name: Strong Wrong Opinion
We see nothing for miles. Sunk ships through the isles. Clear pigment burns skin from some skeptical smiles. Bad form behaviorism retards rationalism. Soulless exorcism funds fundamentalism. So gimme good isms four more skepticism. Colon’s objectivism slows down metabolism. Since the sky hasn’t fallen yet remove your rib and place your bet. Watch beasts fuck on your TV set and try not to get upset. Bureaucrat sits on trial, hung with a shit eating smile. Fuck off forever. It will all be done in a while. Eat ribs till your stomach’s upset, puke up nothing and soak up old debt. Planes crash so I’ll just forget, fly back to Europe and you’ll be all set. Pray and get some free wisdom. Need a lot more consumerism? Re-route, then you can get the fuck out. Criticism had plenty of doubt. Pay for endless favoritism, then enters more narcissism. Never ever figure it out, while some fuck head makes the decision, the wrong incision.

If you like Retox, you may also like: