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Decaying In Desolation [NTR 005]

by Skabel

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My motivation’s dead more than I confess. My music’s fucking dying and my heart isn’t flying. I cannot excel, my art is in hell. I will never see the end but I’ll make amends. This isn’t what I fucking want. I will not settle for this. Religious principles is such a bunch of bull. I will hope for unity. Seven continents with jurisdictions. All the lines are drawn for us. War and anguish, the Earth is languish. Humanity is crumbling here. Inherit my will.
I don’t really get along with a lot of folks. Anxiety, sobriety, it makes me wanna choke. I’ve got my friends, they matter to me. They’ll stay by my side with no strings stuck to me. Here’s to you, to all of my best friends. Even though, I’m not there I will try my fucking best, I will try my best. I will try my best, oh yeah! I’ve crashed many times in my old days. They’ve lifted my spirits and I’m the same way. I’ve got your back my friends, let’s fight together. Don’t submit to your struggles, we’ll fight to conquer. Here’s to you, to all of my best friends. Even though, I’m not there I will try my fucking best, I will try my best. I will try my best.
No one killed Spikey Jacket. It’s a cash cow and a placket. Materialistic capitalist swine. Pissy punks bitch and whine. No one’s killed Spikey Jacket. Punk was a lesser standard. Now we’re all gerrymandered. It used to be for black sheep. Now it’s fashion for the rich to reap. No one’s killed Spikey Jacket. You all killed Spikey Jacket. This song has no point (as you can see). Your scene is weak (as far I see). Offended over the smallest scrutiny, but that doesn’t matter. The state laughs in your face for what you can be.
I don’t wanna be you. I don’t wanna live like you. I wanna live by my standards. I don’t think you’re funny. I want your fucking money. I don’t wanna be a droid. Fuck your plan B. The systems already dead (and never coming) - Fuck your plan B. The youth is already dead (and never coming) - Fuck your plan B and we’re all dead (and never coming back). I don’t wanna die and I won’t ever be myself. You can live in your cubicle. Honor the working class. They’ve dealt with the lowest of all humanity scumbag of all.
I am but a test subject. Nothing is organic anymore. The way we interact is almost robotic. The methods we use to solve problems are rigid. War and famine is a byproduct for somebody else’s personal gain. It sickens me that rotten scum like that exist. But what can I do? I can’t, or at least, it feels that way. I can talk, scream, convey, sing, but I can’t fix anything myself. I can put in the extra effort to be the best that I can be. No one does that. Not these days. Not ever. Humanity is freshly expelled bile and the bacteria are attempting to colonize the only life source it has. Planet Earth is just as disposable as plastic forks and knives during your Fourth of July dinner barberque. Plastic like the floor in solitary confinement. You’ve been in the white room for so long, you experience sensory depravation. You insert things with your brain. You begin to hallucinate. You see things. You hear strange noises you should never see before. The world is a bright place, and light shines on all of its flaws. The world wants to be bulimic for how ugly it is, and as you try to counsel the hurt it feels, it spit acid in your face and socks you square in the nose. Fuck you, world. I’ll go sit by myself. Alone in the dark, where everything is familiar. Away from you. From you and your callas scorns. I will sit by myself, decaying in desolation.
One Bad Cop 01:43
One bad cop will cut your throat in half. One bad cop will sit there and laugh. He’ll kill your friends and rape them all raw. This is a system with a fascistic flaw. One bad cop, same ol’ excuse, one thousand times, I don’t think that it’s okay. You don’t think that I’m so dumb, yet you think that I will submit here to the idea that cops aren’t cruel. Oppression is anything but cool. Dorner, Dan White, Zimmerman are all justified and glorified. Apologists are blind and scared of all the stories that’s been aired. One sided report of a black man and the cops are the heroes again. One bad cop every single day. One bad cop, he will have his way. Every single person in this world hasn’t a fucking clue but it’s very true.
See the guy on TV? He’ll tell you how to feed your family and your needs will be met and to lie to me. I go to work and break my sweats. I deal with shit for the pence. The corporation does not care about your health and about what’s fair. Everything you need to know, will be fed to you. It doesn’t matter what it is, it’s the donkey or the ass. I’ve lost friends over this shit. It’s really simple and I don’t need it. I think it’s wrong that we lose our cool. Convey your thoughts or be a tool. Your friends need you in time of need, don’t mock them when they bleed even if it’s against your code. They might save your life tomorrow. I’m an anarchist and agnostic; I am my own final authority. No plutocrat shall cause harm to me and I care about my friends and my family but I don’t wanna commandeer the rules we have set up here. I think we should, just keep thinking of whole new ways to come about. Over the night, the whole world won’t survive the fatal disease that’s known as mankind. Tomorrow we’ll be thinking. I’d rather give up my pride than to be a bigoted jingoistic sycophant.
Satan is dead. He’s a fucking sellout. It never was a part of his own fucking plan. He’s a little bit of a bitch ass outcast. Now he’s lost all reason to live. Satan is dead. I don’t want to end up in the ground, the idea is a mockery of what used to be cool. The counterculture is an extra buck. Anton LaVey doesn’t really give a fuck. Say “HAIL SATAN” all you want, you’re only supporting the corporate cunts. Just be yourself, don’t slap yourself with a sticker of something else. It’s just like Christianity only with a star and more hypocrisy.
I’ve been missing in action. I’ll probably do this again. Knowing human nature and depression, this is not really going to fucking end. I’ll probably die due to suicide. The world around me is going to collide. I wake myself up to this brand new day. I dread the future and I’m going to say I’m breathing, I’m living, I’m playing. I got a pulse inside of me. It’s been rather foggy, I have grown up a little too. I’ve been rotting, I’m self-harming and I wanna die. I throw myself up to rid of ugliness. I can’t fucking help but dwell in consciousness. Looking at myself and all of my flaws, I can’t seem to find the simple fucking cause. This self-hatred has killed me inside. I’m really worried to internally die. What if this really just a thing a way of me pleading just asking to kill me, please free me, even drug me? And if there’s a god up there, I’ll choke him, I’ll cut him, I’ll break him like Harry Harlow. And I say good bye!
Be proud of who you are. You have grown up so much and you have made it this far. Have some pride in what you’ve done, don’t shut down for anyone. I know that it’s really hard to see the light in yourself, but one day you will thank yourself for sticking your rules and no one else’s. Raise your flag! Live by your own rules Raise your flag! You are your god. Raise your flag! Live by your own rules. Unless you’re a nationalist, then don’t raise your flag. Go fuck yourself, you nationalist scum.


Review by Chris Marshall:

When asked to review Skabel's new album, "Decaying in Desolation," I was not sure if I could manage to survive a second round of this auditory vomit. Well, being in something of a masochistic mood, I decided to give it a shot. I will admit, I was rather surprised by this latest bit of nonsense. This sophomore album, like their first ("Three Blind Mice"), requires a certain sort of taste, when it comes to listening to music. Unfortunately, I acquired that taste, quite a few years ago.

Amongst the shouting, the social discontent, the profanity, and the upstrokes, we find more annoying angst-ridden music, touching - as is Skabel's style - on religion, drugs, social issues, politics, and life (in general); even with a few shockingly positive messages, especially in the last song, "Raise Your Flag."

Though this style of music - this acoustic folk-punk, of sorts - is not the best style to waltz to, I found myself listening to the album, time and time again, as I went about my days. I would certainly recommend that people take a gander - if you will - at the album, and actually pay attention to the lyrics, if you can find a way to understand them. Like with Skabel's other work, the lyrics are intelligent, button-pushing, and rather well written.

Remember, Jesse - less cowbell and more harmonica.


released February 13, 2015

"Decaying In Descolation" (2015) ©

All vocals are done by Skabel (except for the featured addition of soundbites and Thqmas Insomnia).

All instruments were performed by Skabel except for violin which is played by Kyle Duncan.


All lyrics and musical content were composed by Skabel. Quotes are credited by Eiichiro Oda.

Album artwork drawn by Haley Williams.



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