Caligula: More Music From The Motion Picture

by Vices

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credits

released March 26, 2014

Recorded, Mixed, and Mastered by Chris Warren.
Drums Recorded with Philip Miller.
Art by Xris Kukiel.

Vices is Rick Ramarattan (guitars), Chris Warren (drums), Adam Partland (bass) and Max Deneau (vocals). All music by Vices, all lyrics by Max Deneau.

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about

Vices Toronto, Ontario

We play a mix of metal and hardcore influences vaguely resembling a lot of stuff you loved around the turn of the millenium with some other stuff thrown in here and there.

R.R. - guitars
C.W. - drums
A.P. - bass
M.D. - vocals
... more

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Track Name: John Straddler
Utter rejection of your laughable arguments. Stuttering nervously in my presence. Image projection your preferred choice of armament. Stumble pathetically onwards, peasant, into a future undermined, seen through methyline eyes, all intentions disguised. We’ll build a place of worship for none but our own. The sheep buried neck-deep and stoned. Insidious infection of bias consuming you, a hideous absence of integrity. Natural selection embodied abusing you. Blocking safe passage - fuck manifest destiny.
Track Name: God Said He Wants You To Forget About Me
I can’t pretend I am content with holding back only to preserve what you perceive. Fear of the power that you wield over my heart. Fear of the will it takes to grit my teeth and stand apart from this. Call my own bluff. End it all before I concede and make this caricature real. Before your fingernail nullifies the seal. Before every tremor seems a message from the depths. Before I lose tenacity and make the dots connect. Before I rescind upon my contract with my muse. Before I strip away all pretense and put blowtorch to fuse. I’ve pushed myself over the edge and out of the frame. I’m patient with this painting, waiting to wind up aged or slain, and what do either of us have to show? I’m choking on your trauma like the lump that’s lodged in my throat. If I enact an act and play out an archetypical role, I’ll wind up stirring pots, dislodging clots... I've lost control. What was in the cards smashed to shards, spilled from windowsills and shattered. Trapped between this or death I’ll ration my breath until I’ve settled on the latter.
Track Name: Cyanide Suppository
Endeavour to comprehend a structure too decrepit to mend. Upheaval and medieval defense necessary to transcend the trend. You can’t dismantle the Fed. Try self-immolation instead. You’ll never speak up again unless this is the birth of the end.
Track Name: When There's No More Hope To Sell, The Misled Will Walk The Earth
Wading my way through florescent halls, lost souls whizzing past like shrapnel. An unabashed sense of pathos, but all too aware of the fact that I have no reason to judge them. They’re frozen in hell like myself, leaving a trail of smoke signals indicating their non-sentience spells doom for what’s left of their mental health. Turn up the lights and seal all the drafts so they can cower away from nothing. Stretched across the great divide. A bridge for those weaker than I. They’re merchants of discount disguise. Their change rooms are now coffin-sized. Their masks forever magnetized. Their manager won’t sympathize. Dawn of the spoon-fed.
Track Name: S.O.S./Rock With Your Caucus Out
Have you ever seen your eyes from outside your brain, leaking telltale signs that your soul is displaced by your own aptitude for crime? Know the prisons you’ve assembled will remain. Entrenched in a short-term perception of progress. Embodiment, simple and plain, of a fervor inspired by your forefather's failures. From conscience your ilk abstains. Will you double speak those lies till your source of reason breaks, like a fast undertaken by gluttonous objects of derision? Fucking fakes. Get raped by the man behind the curtain and wrapped in a carpet full of glass. Swan dive out the window of your eight by ten cubicle, weighted by the coins you’ve amassed. Will you doublespeak the lies till your drive for greatness fades, like a roadblock impeding the change that your enemies pushed so hard to make? We pushed so hard to wake you up from slumbers you’ve brought upon yourself. Rendered asunder through your death grip on your wealth. Your power is impermanent and fleeting. You cannot count on history repeating, for we will rise and bomb your flagship from the skies. Jet streams spelling out your dismay. Letterhead after letterhead will fade as we stare into the sun, our eyes charred like the contracts we’re torching one by one. As surely as the clock towers hourly chime, the nature of control is borrowed time, and as such, our roles are reassigned.
Track Name: A Zed & Two Knots
You suck the fun out of everything, caught up in misguided intent. Verbose, but lacking direction. Tripping over the truths you cannot circumvent - and who am I to oppose you? Just testosterone without a face. Unworthy of holding opinions, raising my head from my hands only to be maced. I hope someday you'll see that we aren't that different after all.
Track Name: It's Got Spit All Over It
We stand defiant towards your systematic pose. You’re symptomatic of a circuit closed and spinning fruitlessly into irrelevance untold. You’ve tied your own hands and bound yourself in gauze. Found yourself deflected and imprisoned by your flaws. Earned your keep - the price was steep to feel unified with social law. Steal from both sides, denied a personality. Inside us all lie half-spent desires to heed the call to avoid your error. You’re resigned to fall. You’ve accepted something I’ve avoided like a sailor does a squall. Masts are bent into a wishbone sweeping you away. Those responsible for this course will be stripped and flayed. This tug of war decides your fate. Navigating back to shore ashamed. Navigating back to shore disgraced.
Track Name: Next Time I See You At The Funeral Home, You're Dead
And when one can’t make heads or tails of justice, crime or punishment, randomness prevails. A senseless death, none the less grounded in expectancy. Your final breath led to this weight that has affected me. And one can never find the words to rationalize loss until the moment of truth is cruelly served. Leave me with questions – will my passing be a means to earn a clean slate? Etched in impressions – Focus, presence, passion, tempting fate. Grief stricken memories – Pennsylvanian hills and moments seized. And we all are gathered here today to cast complaints aside and to reflect on what we’ve made. This network’s signal never fades, even if tragedy’s the catalyst uniting all who’ve strayed. Surrounded by your friends. Confronted with your end. Motionless, yet strangely full of life – half expecting you to sit upright and slight us for our oversight. Leaving us all behind – but how, to where, and why? Acceptance is easier said than done, but if anything is clear it’s that you would be the first one to tell us to move on, to urge us all along, to remind us of the fact that you are gone, and immortalize you through song.