Strangers

by Strangers

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about

Recorded, etc. by Kris Di Benedetto in his Chicago, IL apartment during the Fall of 2012. Woodcut by Robert C. Skelley.

credits

released December 30, 2012

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Strangers Chicago, Illinois

Jim, Joey, Kris, Ralph

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Track Name: Closet Case
Watch them peddle pre-fab worth. Brand new you for their fucking comfort. Self-knowledge don't mean shit. This goes here because it just fits. Limited perceptions; lowered expectations. Insult fodder for a mindless nation. Stop asking for forgiveness, stop trying to explain to ears that won't listen. They want your identity placed in their hands. Simplest response to an impossible demand? “Fuck you.”
Track Name: Another Fucking Social Gathering
Another night planned of drinks and platitudes? Employ derision to wear down more cautious attitudes. Shit...Do you think anyone will notice the difference? Another bath in a tub full of ice left to block the doors of the intensive care ward. Another fucking social gathering marred by your constant need for attention. Oh well, there's always tomorrow.
Track Name: Remembrance Day
The white male complex shows its roots, chanting sieg heils, throwing salutes. From its tiny brain to its outsize boots in 100% British sheepskin suits. All the fascists gathered there fouling up Trafalgar Square. Proud and dumb on Remembrance Day...Amen. An afternoon in mid November, tell me what you're here to remember. “I can't remember...” “I... I can't remember...” They've got police protection. They've got the boss's investments. They've got shit for brains. They raised their ugly heads again. “Lads, together we can have a laugh. Goose-step past the Cenotaph. Patriotic to the last of this, our patriotic past!” No, they shall not pass.
Track Name: I'm Starting to Get Nervous
Lights off, locked in a basement. Is it any wonder these fingers keep bleeding? Has this whole fucking world gone insane? Prepackaging, promoting, gifting rape. Shackled, naked, hooded heads dragged to the border to feast on sand. Propagating failure as a culture. These token debates between buzzards & vultures. Inching. Inching closer to half a fucking arm. I'm starting to nervous. Is it just me?
Track Name: Pictures of Wildlife
Total greed, selfish creed: only feed want, not need. Your unseen servant's blood is covering your hands . Let's use it to paint some pictures to help you understand. Bombed out, cooked flesh. Scenes which reflect the price that others pay for your excess.
Track Name: Negative Gain
Bind me up, sew me tight. Please degrade me under harshest light. Hate me. I'm not right and there's always something needing change. Hate me, degrade me. Nailed to the wall so just get to rearranging.