about
The Perps are:
B~ill: William Resh
Deep Rooted: Steven Rubin
lyrics
2025
Feel what's real run through your fingertips/
It's the edge of time and nothing stops the crime from passing lips/
It's planned in project corridors, in clouds of rancid piss/
In basement studios, with who knows who's in the mix/
There's no excuses anymore, rusted metaphors/
Stuck to the mesh of microphones and closed down corner stores/
This isn't music, this is revolution in an aural war/
Propaganda put in measure, standard grammar into fours/
Want to go and grab it, because you like the way it patters?/
For a pittance you can pitter with it, pity it doesn't matter/
Chitter-chatter with the hatters, mad with envy over matters/
We can't weigh in to say our shit for fear we'd lose what matters/
It's utter madness, empty nonsense/
This is the theme this is the beat, this is the scene this is the street/
this is the life this is the word this is the real this is absurd/
this is the shit this is the next this is my heart this is my breath/
this is my hell this is my death this is my claim this is my threat/
this is what came this is what went this is the right this is the left/
this is the center of all discontent/
this is disrespect, this is a fallen nest/
this is a broken neck, and this is where she slept/
this is the truth, this is the mood, this is the cool, this is the cruel/
this is awake, this is asleep, this is complacency/
this is the same, this is my friend, this is the end, this is the...
<Without change, something sleeps inside us. The sleeper must awaken.>
Where are you going? This is the way. This is the path that led us astray/
This is the place we left, but not the same we left it/
This is not the heart we had, it's all been left molested/
Nothing's left to salvage, nothing but project housing/
Nothing but runners running, gunners gunning and mothers shouting/
Nothing but empty viles in a vile emptiness/
Nothing but gentrifying where people died to pay their rent/
Nothing but money spent on broken dreams, where salty sweat/
is soaked into the puddles where motor oil stains cement
It's all been written like the scripture. The fix is in the liquor elixir/
Phallicism and philistines, masochism and vasoline/
Passion plays, flashing scenes of holocaustal, ghastly deeds/
Master races face the screen, manipulate it all to seem/
As if evil's place is in between the buttocks of some fairy queen/
Battered wives, bastard kids, calloused hands and broken skin/
Tobacco stains and residue to trace it back to where it begins/
Saccharin and plastic souls left them all to be exposed/
Without a history, it's cyclical mystery/
A sick mind and those behind to march in time with the party lines/
This has happened plenty of times, and every time we see the signs/
and every time we sit there blind/
and every time we look behind us, all we see will reap disgust/
This is the theme this is the beat, this is the scene this is the street/
this is the life this is the word this is the real this is absurd/
this is the shit this is the next this is my heart this is my breath/
this is my hell this is my death this is my claim this is my threat/
this is what came this is what went this is the right this is the left/
this is the center of all discontent/
this is the center of all discontent
credits
from
The Perps,
released January 1, 2013
Produced by Deep Rooted
This track contains a sample from "Tulku" by Meena Devi
license
all rights reserved