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The Final Generation of Man

by Death Knell

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1.
Wire 02:00
By the Sun and the Moon, what must we do with our anger and fear? What must we do when we are on seeming sidelines, smelling the gas of violence cast just down the street, but not upon us? What must we do with the clutching anxiety galloping before a choice between action and complicity? Where do we go to be messy outside of prescripted lines and respectable bounds, to both have something to stand for and much yet to learn? How must we begin, if not from the same biotic soup of our own birth, but furious against the gritty visored maw of an empire, that even now boots down upon the people? What will we truly lose, but discover ourselves thrashing in the tangles of some wire rooting through every room in every building, every street, found unjustly around the throats of the murdered, the same wire running through the head, into the pocketbook, and the pleasures of just staying out of it? Who must we listen to, but those living under the salivating mouths of oppression and property: grinning sourest contempt at its wanted prey. There are no simple answers, until knowledge delivers us back to each other: to know the country is not the land, to know we only endure by organizing together, to know Death can do well and is here. Corrupt was the hope in the dream to be great Corrupt was the thought to own Corrupt what is yours Corrupt what is mine and the wire keeps winding in. Corrupt was the tenderest colonial coo Corrupt was the launch to space Corrupt in the comfort Corrupt on the land and the American lie infesting
2.
Boom, Click 03:06
The invitations sent on tasteful ocher stock in serif-ed bold Some politicians, lobbyists, and their escorts name in gold "Come one! Come all to a party in your honor! It will be a soiree to remember!" And a pleasure to behold "You're on the list, the open bar is stocked with top-shelf fare. A coat-check and a valet - rubbing elbows, open air. All the Right-Wing bigwigs, and the N.R.A, Televangelists." All dancing to their paid for, licensed, music And all they'd hear is Boom, click Boom, boom, click What is going on? They cannot understand that sound And all they'd hear is Boom, click Boom, boom, click They can't figure tout the sound The bass is banging much too loud It's raining death and blood is spilling on the dance floor Dark The beat kicks in Feet start to move The lights flick on my eyes are filled with the sights of wrinkled white men in suits. Ice sculptures and gaudy chandeliers refract the white light into ironic rainbow tears And they don't realize they're doomed With their bleached white teeth, fake tits, and exceptional veneers Their thousand dollar suits will be nothing but ash when I'm through Boom, click Boom, boom, click What is going on? They cannot understand that sound and all they'd hear is Boom, click Boom, boom, click They're slipping on the blood of their constituents and Boom, click Boom, boom, click They're screaming at the top of their lungs Boom, click Boom, boom, click They can't figure out the sound the bass is banging much too loud It's raining death and blood is spilling on the dance floor
3.
Words and numbers in a matchbook burning like a kerosene lamp in the corners of my mind It's flames are licking up, I'm going down Force my blood and heart to syncopate in a complex time And it isn't just the content of it Or the talking that we did that night It's only that it represents a change And I'm not nervous for our act to take place But I don't believe it'd be a waste of time Preparing for the inevitable decline So if you want to dissect this dichotomy to see where it all went south I'll use this matchbook, even on fire, as exhibit A, to tell you what it's all about And I'm nothing if not inconsistent, both in the wanting and the rather not - I always thought it'd go away with age And I'm not nervous for our actions bearing the fruit of our labors But I do believe we're right And I do know we're not safe And we're living now on borrowed time Words and numbers in a matchbook burning in, burn it down I can't sort the feeling out: I'm better in I'm good without Turning me around And I'm not crazy, right, for thinking it's a foolish thing We're better off doing nothing at all? Turning me around But no, I can't expect the change I want to happen if I'm sitting doing nothing when I have the tools in front of me Turn me around Turning me around So now, I mean it Gonna shake a leg, stepping out with my left foot Put it out in front of me, followed up by my right foot Take the matchbook out of my pocket I'm gonna call you Just you wait and see I'm gonna call you And I'm moving, shaking Dancing, walking, thinking, nervous and I'm salivating Meandering a bit and stalling while my heart is aching But I'm nervous breaking down
4.
Nashville 03:50
The Devil walked into The Monocle one summer night in Maryland We we drinking gin and telling jokes when the man, himself, just sauntered in With a vacant set of eyes, a three-piece-suit, and through a perfect grin He said he'd sing us all a song as he tuned his mandolin "Amassing wealth is easy when you sacrifice some residents I give them cash, they give me souls The bombs they use are elegant Why just today I was called to sign and date a new amendment" And we wondered what it said Nashville wasn't meant to survive anyway Ghosts and specters, wreathed in flame are all floating on the breeze And there's ragged burnt up corpses on the fences, hanging from the trees The smell of dirt, and death, and grime is littered on the breeze And the sounds of young love swept away are the voices begging "Please" Conquest, War, and Famine they all laugh until they're out of breath The legions of those MAGA souls are all the banner-men for Death They march into the capital to make every living soul pay Cause Nashville wasn't meant to survive anyway Nashville Wasn't meant to survive anyway The Devil laughed as he shared their suffering with us "And did you see that blast? All of this for cash!" They don't care about you, no It was a single fifty and advancement for his son Nashville sank into the earth.. The Devil's taking claim enslaving all the folks that call this city home Filling the Cumberland up with blood, and sweat, and fear, and shame If you survived the blast out in Lebanon you better get on your knees and pray, Coz Cause Nashville wasn't meant to survive O Nashville
5.
The robed man rides his pale horse down the streets of Fifth Avenue Sword drawn, mouth wide The dust clears, smoke rises The tear gas all blown away The haunted dead scream "Two pounds of wheat for a day" The masses grew Waiting for the stars to fall down and the Moon to turn red But they never saw The blast sounds The terror of the moment struck us, like a bolt from above Wails, cries, then sleep And when we tried to sing along we couldn't match the Angel's songs Bright white and the feeling of an open door We count the lights and breathe in Big man machismo cabaret of rich devoid elite and White Christian apathy displayed Our hearts are buried in these streets You trample on them, underneath Without a thought of who you walk on Bells ring, chimes toll The figure chatters his teeth Light fades, sky falls And when the smoke clears and all the buildings fall The only difference in us are the ones that have they have it all Big man machismo cabaret of rich devoid elite and White Christian apathy displayed Our hearts are buried in these streets You trample on them, underneath Without a thought of who you walk on Who you walk on Who you're walking on And when the smoke clears and all the buildings fall Our hearts are buried in these streets And they'll catch you lying through your teeth
6.
Heave 03:00
Heave, ho Build that wall up to the sky and cut it deep with razor wire Guards posted drinking rum from the cask Heave Bore deep down to the seventh layer Natural gas leak, pump it to the furnace Pissing upstream, Cadi for their families Heave Hot summer sun frying on the back of your neck A rifle in hand, a whip on his belt A dollar a week and two loaves of bread He hollers that you're losing your pace the funders would be upset and wouldn't it be nice to see your family again So heave, ho You spent two weeks on a giant T Another three on the R-U-M-P Lighting up the fog always watching Heave Brushed concrete lay-ins, and glass exterior all trimmed in gold with security systems Halliburton is making all the quotes Heave Does it make you angry that a demagogue, capitalist shill bleeding out your country dry Is being held up, supported, defended with vitriol and unwritten laws until you cannot say anything, or speak out against his regime? The police are all bought Free market is king The dollar takes throne on the American dream But not today Not if we have something to say about this And as long as my heart still beats And as long as this, and as long as that And as long as there is blood in me So heave Better let that dream die, boys
7.
They're kidnapping people in their unmarked vans They slash and poison our water, open targets on our journalists And teargas moratoriums, de-escalating seminars they can't help put this fire out The blood is on our hands This was a never again, now watch it happen again Fragile White suburbanites clutching their pearl necklaces They see graffiti, blame Antifa, lick the boot and go to sleep And these are the people we know: Holiday White relatives We refused to talk about it, refused to single them out Our silence is the bed that we now sleep on This movement is the chance that we depend on Hey Stay together! Plain clothes cops are out to get you now They are the boogey-men but we're community Hey Move together! Grab your friends, coordinate, defend This is our home Quit your job and join the march is on, the time has come Cause we are done with your racist bullshit Enough Enough Enough We've had enough Enough Enough They have been saying it for years but did we really listen to their words? They have been dying in the streets but did we really listen to the need? Our silence is the bog that they emerged from Our founding fathers laid this ground they walk on They are not listening to me, they will not listen to you They only listen to their hate They only hunger for the fight They want another Civil War It's time to fight for what is Right So grab your goggles, don your mask, and join the shield wall White bodies up in front and all salute the U.S as it falls Hey Listen stranger! Grab my arm We're in this together now Alone we are afraid, but together we'll be alright Hey Here's some water and some specs for blocking out the gas! The police are rioting Because they're losing all their money, power, toys, and their protections to incite It's time to show these coward men that love and light prevail We do this every night Enough Enough Enough We've had enough Enough Enough We've had enough Enough Enough Dayenu Enough Enough Enough
8.
Oh Donny boy Oh Donny boy The rope is calling Oh Donny boy Oh Donny boy The rope is calling Oh Donny boy Oh Donny boy The rope is calling Gonna take you to meet the Lord See angels flying above, then walk on clouds to see the Pearly Gates There are no con-men allowed, no lies, no grifts, and no fake universities Hark! The Angels sing their songs! Then up comes Peter with his lists and his psalms And he says "Hell is too good for you, Donny, to torture you unending ways No We need something more suitable to your particular tastes" Oh Donny boy Oh Donny boy The rope is calling Oh Donny boy Oh Donny boy The rope is calling Oh Donny boy Oh Donny boy The rope is calling Gonna take you to meet the Lord Gonna take you to meet the Lord You're falling to the Earth now, the wind is moving fast Flesh is being stripped away, new skin put in its place New clothes on your back You are now penniless living in your own curated world of cruelty All of your surgery is gone, nobody recognizes who you might have been But at least there's still the news But something is amiss It's only a year since your passing and no one remembers your name The only thing that they know about you is collective anger and shame And so we sing Oh Donny boy Oh Donny boy The rope is calling Oh Donny boy Oh Donny boy The rope is calling Oh Donny boy Oh Donny boy The rope is calling Gonna take you to meet the Lord Gonna take you to meet the Lord
9.
O Kavanaugh 04:08
O Kavanaugh Be careful when you go to sleep tonight O Kavanaugh Check your corners when you kill the lights tonight The party you've subscribed to will sell you up the street The second they get any word of judicial integrity The ABA and your Alma Mater really don't believe in you Neither do your classmates or friends you had in school O Kavanaugh Be careful when you drive your car tonight O Kavanaugh Check your brakes before you start your car tonight The only thing to do is drink Your days are long, your future is bleak Your only friend is the bottle now You hide it well but they all know Your wife is making all new friends, not introducing you to them You think she's talking about you, and you're right Margaret and Liza are in the public eye and seeing you for the first time There's nothing you can do, he damage has been done, your reputation follows you around Everywhere you go and everything you do the press and people follow you O Kavanaugh Your family is absolutely safe tonight O Kavanaugh Who cares that your morality is bunk when your vision is doubled? You're seeing red self-righteous rage Your rapist eyes can see that the only problem is other people Everyone is looking at you Everything you do is scrutinized There isn't any way out Everyone is out to get you Better have another beer and visit that nice woman down the street who makes you feel alive Unlike that plastic shell of an embarrassment that is your wife Your life is hell, you need another drink Bodyguards are sleeping on the job and lax gun laws make you a very easy target Better drink your beer, another one, and grab that cocked and loaded gun beside your bed Cry out into the silence say that you've done nothing wrong Nobody is listening and God has turned his back on you Everyone is nice to you only out of courtesy You have no real friends Pull the trigger Pull the trigger and blow your brains all out To end this hell ballet that is your life and save your country while you can The world would be better off tonight
10.
No Thanks 03:12
11.
If I say that I'll be home tomorrow Well you better not sell that home today If I'm singing singing like a sparrow You'll just copy-claim my voice and turn my melodies into your cash Yet we're killing all the industries, the businesses, the companies Cause we can't afford to live the life you lead The world is crumbling around us, got our hearts all in the right place Infantilizing generations, while you cash in your retirements I'm singing about The world your fucking over, and the land you've all but poisoned Your ambition, and your genocide Where's the flower generation gone? I'm singing about We're the final generation, the final generation of man You can say that you didn't see this coming But you did And you didn't do anything to make it stop It's cliche you've become the thing you hated The Greatest Generation bore entitled aberrations hell-bent on global domination through destruction of natural everything I'm singing about About the world that you've polluted, economies that you've balloned, and electing up the Anti-Christ, you're culpable as all of them I'm singing about you Politicking lack of empathy, embarrassed millionaire, temporary contentious objector to all things in front us I'm singing about you We're the final generation, the final generation of man Will not bother having children when the world that they can live in is ash We're the final generation The final generation of man

about

Death Knell's newest release is written as a culmination of 45's presidency. It was recorded in the midst of ongoing protests against police brutality, the worst wildfires the United States has ever seen, and the beginnings of what is likely to be an attempted Authoritarian takeover of the Federal Government. Join the marches. Speak out. Vote. Listen.

credits

released October 28, 2020

Christopher Beatty - Guitar, Vocals, Organ
Cameron Poehner - Drums, Percussion, Vocals
John Bruner - Bass, Vocals

Additional artists:
Ken Yoshikawa, poet (Wire)
Ellie Hakanson, fiddle (Take You to Meet the Lord, No Thanks)
Rob Larkin, lead guitar (Heave)
Brett McConnell, lap steel (When the Smoke Clears)

Cover art by @Shytheartist

Recorded and mixed by Justin Phelps at Hallowed Halls Portland
Mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege

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Death Knell Portland, Oregon

We speak truth to power.

Dark Country from Portland, OR

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