by The Navidson Record

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released April 30, 2013

The Navidson Record is:

Zach Staska - Vocals
P.J. Presti - Guitar
Kayla MacNeil - Guitar
Anthony Tedeschi - Drums
Mat McDonough - Bass

All songs written and performed by The Navidson Record. Recorded at "The Office" in Andover, MA with Mike Moschetto & Oskar. Mixed and mastered by Jay Maas at "Getaway Recording" in Haverhill, MA.




The Navidson Record Pittsfield, Massachusetts

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Track Name: Pill Eater
You are a plague that I cannot vomit out.
You are the noise that drowns out my pleas.
A grave is the only way to forget
I will never know the peace of serenity.
Leave me to die in this piss-soaked dirt,
To breathe in the smog and swallow it whole.
I built a house for you
I made it from my bones
I will just bleed out on the floor
Until you’re willing to come home.
I will just lick my lips,
Satiate my need for taste.
I will always be waiting.
I’m only tasting blood.
I will rest my head somewhere new.
I’m not sure how much longer I can keep on breathing.
I’ve got ten steps until I die.
I’ll waste them all getting closer to you
The light has gone out of my life.
Track Name: The Scumbag Boogie
We have built these empty halls to shout across at skeletons.
We are moving downward from the only home we’ve ever had.
We are to blame for this broken scene…
A search for dominance,
A senseless power struggle,
Has erected walls between us,
Is tearing us apart.
We elected figureheads.
We all serve as representatives
But there are some of us
Who never had anything worth saying.
All this negative space is caused by all your negative actions.
We must reclaim
The monuments
That we’ve been ripping down
Brick by brick.
We are not defined by
Who we have to fight for us
But we are shaped by
What we have to fight for.
Track Name: Blacklung Blues
We only need what we cannot create ourselves
So give me a reason to keep filling these lungs.
We may only have two heads, but
We still do the work of beasts.
Succumb yourself
The end of the line is a firing squad.
Consider this my resignation.
Save your blindfolds for someone who needs them,
Consider this my resignation,
Save your blindfolds for someone who needs them.
If worse comes to worst,
I’ll rip out my eyes and drop dead.
Oh, I never claimed
To be stronger than this
I am not a man,
But a fucking child.
I am a product of the waste
That I hold in my ribcage.
I am only worthy of praise
From whores and liars.
If this is what I have to look forward to,
I’m all set with becoming a man.
I’ll take a page from the book of the dead,
Because I’d rather be a corpse
Than the scum I am.
So I wrote them a letter
Explaining my departure from a cold, concrete room.
There is nothing in these veins.
There is nothing to this heart but hate.
There is nothing under this skin,
And I am owed no more than that from others,
So why the fuck would Jesus die for me?