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Mic Check (Mic Check)

from Land of the Lotus Eaters by Hermitofthewoods

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lyrics

Meet me where the shadows leave no traces. In the spaces between what is seen and what’s erased. This is no game, misstep and your wrist will get chained, delete you from the mainframe. That’s why use codenames. It’s a movement in the loosest usage of the term. Producing noise, can’t get a consensus on the words. It’s all scattershot pretentious, agendas are never ending. Deadlocked. Talks suspended over who will be offended. Democracy is designed to self-destruct under pressure. Dead by its own hand. Fuck it. Whatever. Live by compromise or die by semiotics – that ol’ Nothing’s Ever Good Enough politics - it slaughters us. All of us have seen the Fall in one way or another, discovered what’s involved and why some were made to suffer. It’s upper versus lower with the illusion of a middle. Seduced recruits removed from use, confused by truthless riddles. Can’t find the time to outline the design of our confinement. Everyone’s too busy grinding, strict and steady 9 to 5ing. This is why we are in hiding. No temptation by incentive. We always need reminding that our stations are invented. Dissent is not the end, it’s a call to conversation, but too many people talking drowns out communication. Our sections are susceptible to saboteurs and instigators who would blur the lines to justify arresting us as traitors. Because every generation wants to be the last and giving up the reins, that can be a lot to ask. This isn’t resistance, it’s about our existence. Left divided, riding to a belligerent extinction. Instead of talking we could be rocking 33 revolutions per minute. Committed and resolute, not letting arguments inhibit, and being considerate of infinite permutations as impermeable proof that truth just suits the user at the moment of its use. Cannons are loose while the world that we knew is reduced to ashes. Firebombs rain and rolling iron smashes. Still we raise our glasses. Still we talk of glory. But televisions tame us telling someone else’s story. Pop is what sustains us. Stock markets serenade us. We’re sick of lemonade but they give us lemons for our wages. Please, Mister, can’t we make some changes? And won’t you look me in the eye before you write me off as nameless? We’re an aimless generation, inheritors of dead industries, legacies of shameful behaviour and shallow victories. So we rise to the occasion or stay divided by details. Divided is how they like us ‘cause united we’d prevail. Meet me where light draws diamonds from your breath. Where we can meet in secret without fear of arrest. Where it isn’t Left and Right because Left and Right suggests that one is a departure while the other is correct. Meet me where we can keep trying not to drown. Where we can meet each week to keep ourselves from falling down. Where we can speak together in a unified sound that will penetrate the surface from the underground.

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from Land of the Lotus Eaters, released May 14, 2013

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Endemik Music Montréal, Québec

Canadian independent hip hop and experimental label since 2001. Originated in Halifax, NS and re-located to Montreal, QC.

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